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 Monaco and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1965 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 arpeggiator 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 Kurtis Blow 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 FM Einheit. All the underground hits.
All Mad Mike tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Schoolly D 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mission of Burma record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jeru the Damaja,
The Searchers,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Buzzcocks,
Soul Sonic Force,
Matthew Bourne,
Jacob Miller,
One Last Wish,
Main Source,
Bluetip,
Animal Collective,
Tim Buckley,
Bronski Beat,
The Residents,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Dirtbombs,
The Doobie Brothers,
Subhumans,
Joey Negro,
The Remains,
Barry Ungar,
Porter Ricks,
The Velvet Underground,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Masters at Work,
Ornette Coleman,
Kaleidoscope,
Thompson Twins,
Reuben Wilson,
David Bowie,
Wasted Youth,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Gong,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Maurizio,
Delta 5,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Inner City,
The J.B.'s,
The Red Krayola,
the Slits,
The Saints,
Second Layer,
Mary Jane Girls,
Erykah Badu,
Soft Cell,
Ponytail,
The Doors,
X-Ray Spex,
The Slits,
Piero Umiliani,
Michelle Simonal,
The Mojo Men,
Radiopuhelimet,
Joe Smooth,
Man Eating Sloth,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Pet Shop Boys,
China Crisis,
Parry Music,
The Moleskins,
Niagra, Niagra, Niagra, Niagra.
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.