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 Kuwait and from Spokane.
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 1966 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Wings to the funk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band. All the underground hits.
All Chrome tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Das Ding record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Iggy Pop record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cheater Slicks,
Erykah Badu,
The Fortunes,
Animal Collective,
Brand Nubian,
Johnny Clarke,
Bobby Sherman,
The Angels of Light,
Hoover,
Swans,
Fort Wilson Riot,
John Coltrane,
Donny Hathaway,
New Order,
Q65,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
World's Most,
David Axelrod,
Silicon Teens,
Gang Starr,
Robert Wyatt,
Thee Headcoats,
Rekid,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Dirtbombs,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Parry Music,
Janne Schatter,
Ronan,
Henry Cow,
Dennis Brown,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Dave Clark Five,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Rakim,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Zapp,
The Moody Blues,
Masters at Work,
Cybotron,
Swell Maps,
Byron Stingily,
Ornette Coleman,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Quando Quango,
Nik Kershaw,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Sound Behaviour,
Franke,
Dead Boys,
Ultravox,
Joe Smooth,
Tomorrow,
The Mojo Men,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Throbbing Gristle,
Young Marble Giants,
Al Stewart,
Toni Rubio,
Excepter, Excepter, Excepter, Excepter.
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.