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 Iraq and from Madrid.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the linndrum 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 The Cure to the grunge 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 Alison Limerick. All the underground hits.
All Masters at Work tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sexual Harrassment record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jeru the Damaja record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ossler,
The Shadows of Knight,
Crash Course in Science,
Organ,
Minor Threat,
Adolescents,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Todd Terry,
Make Up,
Tom Boy,
Hashim,
James White and The Blacks,
Crime,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Happenings,
Wolf Eyes,
The New Christs,
The Moleskins,
The Buckinghams,
Gil Scott Heron,
Skaos,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Sun Ra,
Scratch Acid,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Darondo,
Alton Ellis,
Sixth Finger,
Surgeon,
Bobby Byrd,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Ronan,
Dorothy Ashby,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Martian,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Barracudas,
Franke,
Rod Modell,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Techniques,
Technova,
The Invisible,
Chrome,
Soul II Soul,
Desert Stars,
Bobbi Humphrey,
DNA,
The Remains,
Country Teasers,
Yazoo,
The Neon Judgement,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Tropical Tobacco,
Brick,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Fugazi,
Hot Snakes,
Aswad,
Josef K,
Fear, Fear, Fear, Fear.
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.