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 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 1961 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the linndrum 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 The Doobie Brothers to the rock 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 Oppenheimer Analysis. All the underground hits.
All Black Bananas tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fluxion record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Sheep record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Siglo XX,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Motorama,
Rakim,
The Monochrome Set,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Glenn Branca,
ABBA,
June Days,
The Shadows of Knight,
Nico,
Tubeway Army,
Scrapy,
Khruangbin,
Accadde A,
Pussy Galore,
Porter Ricks,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Max Romeo,
Absolute Body Control,
Derrick May,
Mary Jane Girls,
Susan Cadogan,
the Fania All-Stars,
Bauhaus,
Unwound,
Intrusion,
Popol Vuh,
The Dirtbombs,
Janne Schatter,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Frankie Knuckles,
John Lydon,
Blancmange,
The Litter,
The Standells,
Aswad,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Sun City Girls,
Masters at Work,
the Soft Cell,
Ice-T,
the Slits,
The Toasters,
Ituana,
The Busters,
Flamin' Groovies,
Soul Sonic Force,
Lucky Dragons,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Outsiders,
The Young Rascals,
Animal Collective,
Funkadelic,
Flipper,
Saccharine Trust,
Deadbeat,
Jacques Brel,
Alphaville,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Yellowson, Yellowson, Yellowson, Yellowson.
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.