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 Barbados and from Columbus.
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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Bobby Hutcherson to the grunge kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Youth Brigade. All the underground hits.
All The Five Americans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pagans 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Reagan Youth,
Robert Hood,
Marc Almond,
Johnny Osbourne,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Severed Heads,
Marcia Griffiths,
Pere Ubu,
Fluxion,
H. Thieme,
Rosa Yemen,
Toni Rubio,
Gichy Dan,
FM Einheit,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Pulsallama,
Magma,
The Mummies,
The Leaves,
cv313,
Delon & Dalcan,
the Sonics,
Half Japanese,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Amon Düül,
Joey Negro,
Sexual Harrassment,
Erasure,
Crime,
Con Funk Shun,
Bootsy Collins,
Rhythm & Sound,
Soul II Soul,
The Alarm Clocks,
Bobby Byrd,
Patti Smith,
Suicide,
Guru Guru,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Joe Smooth,
Cymande,
Carl Craig,
Dennis Brown,
Skarface,
Traffic Nightmare,
Arthur Verocai,
The Motions,
Accadde A,
Visage,
Amazonics,
The Slits,
The Searchers,
Index,
Masters at Work,
Qualms,
The Dave Clark Five,
James White and The Blacks,
Alison Limerick,
Arab on Radar,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Mad Mike,
Crash Course in Science,
Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye.
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.