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 Moldova and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1967 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Grass Roots to the grunge kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 8 Eyed Spy. All the underground hits.
All Steve Hackett tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Boogie Down Productions record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Livin' Joy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Pop Group,
The Monochrome Set,
Gong,
Amon Düül,
Mr. Review,
Adolescents,
Janne Schatter,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Glambeats Corp.,
John Cale,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
New Age Steppers,
Bush Tetras,
Silicon Teens,
The Saints,
Delta 5,
The Human League,
Harry Pussy,
One Last Wish,
Lucky Dragons,
Gabor Szabo,
Lou Christie,
John Holt,
The Monks,
Sight & Sound,
Yazoo,
Judy Mowatt,
The Neon Judgement,
E-Dancer,
Mandrill,
Hardrive,
Babytalk,
June Days,
The Birthday Party,
Nirvana,
Minny Pops,
The Wake,
Con Funk Shun,
Basic Channel,
The Techniques,
Marc Almond,
Moby Grape,
The Moleskins,
Byron Stingily,
Skaos,
Jesper Dahlback,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Five Americans,
Crooked Eye,
Rhythm & Sound,
Peter and Kerry,
Desert Stars,
Max Romeo,
T.S.O.L.,
John Coltrane,
Idris Muhammad,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
The Selecter,
The Knickerbockers,
Prince Buster,
Donald Byrd,
Angry Samoans,
Suburban Knight, Suburban Knight, Suburban Knight, Suburban Knight.
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.