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 Latvia and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Rosa Yemen to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Wyatt. All the underground hits.
All Buzzcocks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Smog 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The American Breed record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Velvet Underground,
Lower 48,
Letta Mbulu,
Matthew Halsall,
ABC,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Soulsonic Force,
Duran Duran,
Yaz,
Ralphi Rosario,
Anakelly,
This Heat,
Scott Walker,
Fat Boys,
John Cale,
Tom Boy,
Joensuu 1685,
T. Rex,
Suicide,
Circle Jerks,
The Music Machine,
Marmalade,
Rhythm & Sound,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Cowsills,
Crispy Ambulance,
8 Eyed Spy,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Bang On A Can,
A Certain Ratio,
Ronnie Foster,
Pantytec,
Electric Prunes,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Moby Grape,
Laurel Aitken,
Malaria!,
Blake Baxter,
Intrusion,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Loose Ends,
Agitation Free,
Zapp,
The Remains,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Birthday Party,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Bronski Beat,
Skriet,
Organ,
Robert Wyatt,
Stiv Bators,
Aswad,
Harry Pussy,
The Cure,
Rotary Connection,
Bad Manners,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Scientists,
Con Funk Shun,
Little Man,
The Residents, The Residents, The Residents, The Residents.
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.