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 New Zealand and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines to the punk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Terry Callier. All the underground hits.
All New Age Steppers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Flash Fearless record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Human League record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Young Marble Giants,
Ohio Players,
The Neon Judgement,
Prince Buster,
Ronan,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Robert Hood,
Freddie Wadling,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Niagra,
The Fire Engines,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
T.S.O.L.,
The Velvet Underground,
Moss Icon,
Suburban Knight,
Minor Threat,
Gerry Rafferty,
Rufus Thomas,
Danielle Patucci,
Heaven 17,
The Misunderstood,
Fad Gadget,
Blossom Toes,
Black Sheep,
Supertramp,
cv313,
The Flesh Eaters,
the Fania All-Stars,
Radio Birdman,
Gil Scott Heron,
Man Parrish,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Laurel Aitken,
Ice-T,
The Birthday Party,
The Star Department,
ABBA,
Visage,
The New Christs,
Oneida,
Yusef Lateef,
Andrew Hill,
Kerri Chandler,
Bronski Beat,
Marc Almond,
Althea and Donna,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The United States of America,
Crispy Ambulance,
Pussy Galore,
Anthony Braxton,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Walker Brothers,
Deakin,
Youth Brigade,
Lightning Bolt,
Grandmaster Flash,
Altered Images,
the Slits,
June of 44,
Interpol, Interpol, Interpol, Interpol.
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.