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 Austria and from Hong Kong.
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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 The Dave Clark Five to the disco kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Outsiders. All the underground hits.
All Crispian St. Peters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cal Tjader 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 sitar and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fear record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crime,
Gastr Del Sol,
Robert Hood,
Lungfish,
Gang Starr,
The Remains,
Scion,
Heaven 17,
Judy Mowatt,
Donald Byrd,
Little Man,
Grandmaster Flash,
Sonic Youth,
Zapp,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Nation of Ulysses,
DJ Sneak,
Pylon,
Morten Harket,
Eurythmics,
Television,
The Happenings,
Icehouse,
Pet Shop Boys,
Fat Boys,
Laurel Aitken,
Ossler,
Nico,
Patti Smith,
Q and Not U,
Intrusion,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Jesper Dahlback,
T. Rex,
Sound Behaviour,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Gerry Rafferty,
Ralphi Rosario,
Severed Heads,
Jeru the Damaja,
X-102,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Rotary Connection,
Vladislav Delay,
Throbbing Gristle,
Main Source,
Loose Ends,
Nirvana,
In Retrospect,
The Gap Band,
The Litter,
AZ,
Gichy Dan,
Eric Dolphy,
Ponytail,
The Kinks,
Charles Mingus,
Urselle,
Rod Modell, Rod Modell, Rod Modell, Rod Modell.
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.