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 Samoa and from Copenhagen.
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 Paris and Madrid.
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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Porter Ricks to the grime 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 The Martian. All the underground hits.
All Jeru the Damaja tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Slick Rick record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Suicide record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Black Dice,
Colin Newman,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Ronnie Foster,
Reagan Youth,
The Techniques,
Isaac Hayes,
Fela Kuti,
Lower 48,
Thompson Twins,
The Grass Roots,
Arcadia,
Fatback Band,
The Mojo Men,
The Dave Clark Five,
Eric Copeland,
Fluxion,
Cluster,
The Martian,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Sun Ra,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Donny Hathaway,
Morten Harket,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
ABC,
Ronan,
Massinfluence,
the Fania All-Stars,
Eric Dolphy,
Tres Demented,
cv313,
Public Image Ltd.,
Big Daddy Kane,
Electric Prunes,
Crime,
Q and Not U,
The Gun Club,
The Human League,
The Durutti Column,
Arab on Radar,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Hardrive,
One Last Wish,
The Real Kids,
Zapp,
June of 44,
Guru Guru,
Liliput,
Drexciya,
The Young Rascals,
Robert Wyatt,
The Stooges,
MC5,
Grauzone,
Howard Jones,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Simply Red,
Goldenarms,
Ossler,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Cramps, The Cramps, The Cramps, The Cramps.
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.