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 Ghana and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1963 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Johannesburg.
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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Gang of Four to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Public Image Ltd.. All the underground hits.
All Black Sheep tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Boredoms record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Stetsasonic record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Mo-Dettes,
Sound Behaviour,
Nirvana,
Junior Murvin,
Traffic Nightmare,
Fad Gadget,
EPMD,
Dennis Brown,
Theoretical Girls,
Clear Light,
The Angels of Light,
The Seeds,
Ice-T,
The Slackers,
Robert Hood,
Kas Product,
Black Sheep,
Maurizio,
Royal Trux,
Lalann,
Roy Ayers,
Bauhaus,
Brick,
The Move,
the Germs,
Icehouse,
Brand Nubian,
Lungfish,
The Associates,
Spoonie Gee,
Joy Division,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Fortunes,
Urselle,
The Young Rascals,
The Techniques,
Yusef Lateef,
The Cramps,
Audionom,
Sexual Harrassment,
Second Layer,
Swans,
Oneida,
Depeche Mode,
The Modern Lovers,
Minnie Riperton,
Rod Modell,
Lyres,
The Five Americans,
Sonny Sharrock,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Standells,
Suicide,
Soft Cell,
Popol Vuh,
Jacques Brel,
Ludus,
Frankie Knuckles,
Hardrive, Hardrive, Hardrive, Hardrive.
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.