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 Tonga and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Marc Almond to the techno kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Spoonie Gee. All the underground hits.
All Camberwell Now tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Fania All-Stars record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Brick record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sexual Harrassment,
Marine Girls,
The Wake,
John Holt,
the Fania All-Stars,
Grey Daturas,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Howard Jones,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Zero Boys,
The Blues Magoos,
Goldenarms,
Suburban Knight,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Smoke,
Adolescents,
Ultravox,
The Fall,
The Stooges,
Judy Mowatt,
Pharoah Sanders,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Gories,
Bobby Byrd,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Drive Like Jehu,
Jawbox,
MDC,
Junior Murvin,
The Remains,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
The Buckinghams,
Swell Maps,
Aural Exciters,
The Saints,
Lou Reed,
Whodini,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Delon & Dalcan,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Eric Dolphy,
Simply Red,
Kayak,
Circle Jerks,
John Lydon,
Ornette Coleman,
One Last Wish,
The Gap Band,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Albert Ayler,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Prince Buster,
T. Rex,
Cecil Taylor,
Stereo Dub,
Alice Coltrane,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Sonics,
Scan 7,
Ken Boothe,
Joe Smooth,
10cc,
Au Pairs,
Little Man, Little Man, Little Man, Little Man.
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.