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 Vanuatu and from Glasgow.
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 Manchester and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 chamberlin 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 Popol Vuh to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Cabaret Voltaire. All the underground hits.
All Gil Scott Heron tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Dead C 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jesper Dahlback record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Godley & Creme,
kango's stein massive,
Amazonics,
Circle Jerks,
EPMD,
The Martian,
Bronski Beat,
The Raincoats,
Kurtis Blow,
Lalo Schifrin,
Unrelated Segments,
The Red Krayola,
Liliput,
Tres Demented,
Surgeon,
MC5,
Kas Product,
Robert Görl,
Aswad,
Charles Mingus,
Interpol,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Supertramp,
The Toasters,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Qualms,
Sonic Youth,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Ronan,
Mantronix,
Rites of Spring,
The Offenders,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Susan Cadogan,
Scrapy,
Stereo Dub,
Eve St. Jones,
Rotary Connection,
Bill Near,
Average White Band,
Oneida,
In Retrospect,
Alison Limerick,
The Skatalites,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Monks,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Sonny Sharrock,
Fatback Band,
Eric Copeland,
Wire,
Mandrill,
Glenn Branca,
Khruangbin,
Nirvana,
Fear,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Kinks,
KRS-One,
Procol Harum, Procol Harum, Procol Harum, Procol Harum.
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.