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 Mali and from Johannesburg.
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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen 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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the sitar 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 Rhythm & Sound to the techno 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 Minnie Riperton. All the underground hits.
All Bush Tetras tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every L. Decosne record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 güiro and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Royal Family And The Poor record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Angels of Light,
The Names,
A Flock of Seagulls,
X-Ray Spex,
Gang Gang Dance,
Ultra Naté,
Girls At Our Best!,
Funkadelic,
Ronnie Foster,
Los Fastidios,
The Fall,
Nico,
Harpers Bizarre,
Marine Girls,
K-Klass,
Pierre Henry,
Kas Product,
The Zeros,
Country Teasers,
Audionom,
Sound Behaviour,
The Tremeloes,
Groovy Waters,
Graham Central Station,
Inner City,
Sam Rivers,
Bad Manners,
Soft Cell,
8 Eyed Spy,
Lalann,
Black Pus,
KRS-One,
Blancmange,
Marmalade,
EPMD,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Joensuu 1685,
Dennis Brown,
Radio Birdman,
The Gories,
Jacques Brel,
Skriet,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Bang On A Can,
Black Moon,
Dead Boys,
Avey Tare,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Aural Exciters,
La Düsseldorf,
Young Marble Giants,
The Durutti Column,
the Germs,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Skatalites,
The Seeds,
Mad Mike,
Wire,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Tim Buckley,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Flesh Eaters, The Flesh Eaters, The Flesh Eaters, The Flesh Eaters.
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.