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 Gambia and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Blackbyrds to the grime kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Angry Samoans. All the underground hits.
All The Blackbyrds tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gang Green record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Slits record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Chris & Cosey,
The Offenders,
X-Ray Spex,
Guru Guru,
Black Flag,
10cc,
Eurythmics,
Curtis Mayfield,
Lee Hazlewood,
Lou Christie,
Japan,
the Slits,
Dark Day,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
AZ,
Agent Orange,
Bob Dylan,
Black Sheep,
Ossler,
Marine Girls,
Henry Cow,
The Electric Prunes,
The Cramps,
Steve Hackett,
Suburban Knight,
Danielle Patucci,
Excepter,
Kool Moe Dee,
Sex Pistols,
Vladislav Delay,
Goldenarms,
Byron Stingily,
Robert Görl,
Quando Quango,
Donald Byrd,
Arab on Radar,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Smiths,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Sarah Menescal,
Swell Maps,
The Dirtbombs,
Fear,
Second Layer,
Toni Rubio,
Buzzcocks,
Maleditus Sound,
T. Rex,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Divine Comedy,
The Fortunes,
The Grass Roots,
Procol Harum,
Index,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Kurtis Blow,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Television Personalities,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Soft Machine,
The Standells,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Suicide, Suicide, Suicide, Suicide.
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.