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 Tunisia and from Beijing.
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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Shanghai.
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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Johnny Osbourne to the dance kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Art Ensemble Of Chicago. All the underground hits.
All The Sisters of Mercy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Yusef Lateef record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Vogues record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jeff Lynne,
Alton Ellis,
Pole,
Sex Pistols,
Fluxion,
the Fania All-Stars,
Rosa Yemen,
Cameo,
Quando Quango,
Toni Rubio,
B.T. Express,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
June of 44,
Hot Snakes,
The Toasters,
Stiv Bators,
The Invisible,
Sound Behaviour,
Nico,
T. Rex,
Dorothy Ashby,
Wings,
Massinfluence,
Nik Kershaw,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Yellowson,
Judy Mowatt,
Absolute Body Control,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Joy Division,
Prince Buster,
Aaron Thompson,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Remains,
Gregory Isaacs,
Pagans,
Section 25,
A Certain Ratio,
Pantytec,
Sällskapet,
Minnie Riperton,
Ornette Coleman,
Marmalade,
The Buckinghams,
Terry Callier,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Busters,
CMW,
Average White Band,
Black Bananas,
Tomorrow,
Lightning Bolt,
Slave,
New Age Steppers,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Bad Manners,
The Standells, The Standells, The Standells, The Standells.
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.