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 Liberia and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1965 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 marimba 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 Graham Central Station to the rock 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 A Certain Ratio. All the underground hits.
All Gang of Four tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fad Gadget record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Judy Mowatt record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Cure,
Aswad,
Yellowson,
Robert Hood,
John Foxx,
Slick Rick,
The Victims,
The Dead C,
Roy Ayers,
DNA,
Stockholm Monsters,
Visage,
David Axelrod,
Q and Not U,
The Black Dice,
Niagra,
Eli Mardock,
Sällskapet,
The Dave Clark Five,
Matthew Halsall,
James White and The Blacks,
The Searchers,
Lalann,
Easy Going,
Drive Like Jehu,
Jeru the Damaja,
Von Mondo,
Chris & Cosey,
Reagan Youth,
Franke,
The Dirtbombs,
Thee Headcoats,
Sam Rivers,
Absolute Body Control,
Janne Schatter,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Pantytec,
Porter Ricks,
Skriet,
Underground Resistance,
Quadrant,
T. Rex,
cv313,
Bob Dylan,
The Monochrome Set,
Black Pus,
Intrusion,
Section 25,
Shoche,
Blake Baxter,
Mandrill,
Organ,
Warren Ellis,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Funky Four + One,
Morten Harket,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Beau Brummels,
Theoretical Girls,
Buzzcocks,
Suburban Knight,
Davy DMX,
Arab on Radar,
The Blues Magoos, The Blues Magoos, The Blues Magoos, The Blues Magoos.
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.