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 Switzerland and from Glasgow.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Johannesburg.
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 1976 at the first Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Pharoah Sanders to the crunk 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 Robert Hood. All the underground hits.
All Man Eating Sloth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Searchers 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Smog record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kurtis Blow,
Harry Pussy,
Magma,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Babytalk,
The Happenings,
The Busters,
Bluetip,
Derrick May,
Bootsy Collins,
Underground Resistance,
The Golliwogs,
Public Image Ltd.,
Loose Ends,
Flipper,
the Sonics,
The Evens,
Gerry Rafferty,
Niagra,
Ossler,
the Fania All-Stars,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Gabor Szabo,
Black Pus,
Quantec,
Roxy Music,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Ralphi Rosario,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Magazine,
New York Dolls,
The Misunderstood,
In Retrospect,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
the Swans,
Tomorrow,
The Standells,
Popol Vuh,
Archie Shepp,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Sight & Sound,
Kaleidoscope,
The Beau Brummels,
Saccharine Trust,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
China Crisis,
Trumans Water,
Bronski Beat,
Junior Murvin,
The Monks,
X-101,
Bill Wells,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Bobby Sherman,
The Raincoats,
Royal Trux,
Duran Duran,
Todd Terry,
Cal Tjader, Cal Tjader, Cal Tjader, Cal Tjader.
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.