Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from United Kingdom and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing The Fall to the grime kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by James White and The Blacks. All the underground hits.
All Absolute Body Control tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Alice Coltrane record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jimmy McGriff record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Audionom,
Icehouse,
Marine Girls,
A Flock of Seagulls,
the Bar-Kays,
Soft Cell,
Pantytec,
Blancmange,
Mantronix,
Porter Ricks,
Bush Tetras,
Black Sheep,
One Last Wish,
T. Rex,
The Techniques,
Black Moon,
DNA,
Funky Four + One,
The Cure,
Duran Duran,
The Alarm Clocks,
Country Teasers,
the Soft Cell,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Rites of Spring,
Lou Christie,
The Martian,
Siglo XX,
Cal Tjader,
Mo-Dettes,
Avey Tare,
The Golliwogs,
Alice Coltrane,
Marmalade,
Swell Maps,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Wake,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Black Bananas,
Patti Smith,
Slick Rick,
Derrick May,
Angry Samoans,
Nas,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Sexual Harrassment,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Seeds,
Niagra,
Hasil Adkins,
UT,
Banda Bassotti,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
John Foxx,
Mars,
Intrusion,
Kurtis Blow,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Cramps,
Livin' Joy,
Thee Headcoats,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Pop Group,
The Walker Brothers,
Crispian St. Peters, Crispian St. Peters, Crispian St. Peters, Crispian St. Peters.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.