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 Chile and from Hong Kong.
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 1969 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 linndrum 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 The Zeros to the techno kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Cymande. All the underground hits.
All Main Source 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 funk 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 rhodes and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gil Scott Heron record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum 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 Toasters,
Accadde A,
Harry Pussy,
JFA,
Ultra Naté,
The Stooges,
Arcadia,
The Smoke,
Alphaville,
Make Up,
The Divine Comedy,
The Real Kids,
The Fall,
Magma,
8 Eyed Spy,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Dennis Brown,
Arab on Radar,
Duran Duran,
Moebius,
The Alarm Clocks,
Radio Birdman,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Names,
Leonard Cohen,
Bang On A Can,
John Cale,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Slave,
Eli Mardock,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Marc Almond,
Donald Byrd,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Erasure,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Bob Dylan,
Robert Görl,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Circle Jerks,
Judy Mowatt,
Hoover,
The Move,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
X-Ray Spex,
Marshall Jefferson,
Cal Tjader,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Beau Brummels,
Grauzone,
The J.B.'s,
Chrome,
The Saints,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Swans, Swans, Swans, Swans.
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.