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 Montenegro and from Salvador.
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 1964 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Model 500 to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Idris Muhammad. All the underground hits.
All Youth Brigade tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Reagan Youth 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fortunes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Delta 5,
Moebius,
Ice-T,
Darondo,
Althea and Donna,
Minor Threat,
L. Decosne,
Buzzcocks,
Sex Pistols,
X-101,
Colin Newman,
Section 25,
Desert Stars,
the Fania All-Stars,
Electric Prunes,
Public Enemy,
Crash Course in Science,
Nirvana,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Au Pairs,
Hot Snakes,
The Happenings,
Agent Orange,
Nas,
R.M.O.,
Joy Division,
Rapeman,
Black Bananas,
The Mojo Men,
The Detroit Cobras,
Easy Going,
Rufus Thomas,
The Vogues,
The Motions,
Sällskapet,
Young Marble Giants,
JFA,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
David Axelrod,
Rekid,
a-ha,
Funkadelic,
Sun City Girls,
Audionom,
Whodini,
Ultravox,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Durutti Column,
Sight & Sound,
T. Rex,
Tim Buckley,
James White and The Blacks,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Beau Brummels,
Camberwell Now,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Davy DMX,
Scrapy,
La Düsseldorf,
Dawn Penn,
Spoonie Gee,
Symarip, Symarip, Symarip, Symarip.
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.