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 Chad and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1969 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 guitar 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 Pantaleimon to the crunk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Eric B and Rakim. All the underground hits.
All Rites of Spring tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Minny Pops record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pussy Galore record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kayak,
Gang Starr,
Grey Daturas,
The Martian,
Joensuu 1685,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Hardrive,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Monks,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Jeff Mills,
Bauhaus,
Inner City,
Lalann,
The Associates,
Kool Moe Dee,
Ornette Coleman,
Roxy Music,
Metal Thangz,
Soul II Soul,
Minutemen,
Hasil Adkins,
Marc Almond,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Offenders,
Connie Case,
Terry Callier,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Johnny Osbourne,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Hashim,
Todd Terry,
Moss Icon,
Scan 7,
Scientists,
Ralphi Rosario,
Ken Boothe,
A Certain Ratio,
ABBA,
Mo-Dettes,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Victims,
Pantytec,
The Move,
Lower 48,
David Bowie,
Roger Hodgson,
a-ha,
Angry Samoans,
Black Bananas,
Smog,
MC5,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Beau Brummels,
Pole,
Ronan,
Youth Brigade,
Stetsasonic,
The Electric Prunes,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Khruangbin, Khruangbin, Khruangbin, Khruangbin.
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.