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 Japan and from Lyon.
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 1963 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Woodstock.
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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Peanut Butter Conspiracy to the rap 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 Rapeman. All the underground hits.
All Barrington Levy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jerry Gold Smith 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Juan Atkins record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rakim,
Gang Green,
Silicon Teens,
Urselle,
Max Romeo,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Thee Headcoats,
The Fire Engines,
Radiopuhelimet,
These Immortal Souls,
The Doors,
Zapp,
Flipper,
Amazonics,
The Neon Judgement,
Funkadelic,
Ralphi Rosario,
Fad Gadget,
Dave Gahan,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Bootsy Collins,
Slick Rick,
Shoche,
Bush Tetras,
Brass Construction,
Lebanon Hanover,
Mary Jane Girls,
Goldenarms,
Soul II Soul,
Johnny Osbourne,
Pet Shop Boys,
Skarface,
Harry Pussy,
Gabor Szabo,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Arab on Radar,
Chrome,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Godley & Creme,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Rites of Spring,
Derrick May,
Can,
Juan Atkins,
Fugazi,
Cal Tjader,
JFA,
Bob Dylan,
Little Man,
Matthew Halsall,
The Divine Comedy,
Rotary Connection,
Y Pants,
Marc Almond,
Jacques Brel,
The Busters,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Electric Light Orchestra, Electric Light Orchestra, Electric Light Orchestra, Electric Light Orchestra.
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.