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 the UAE and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 Paris and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 Holger Czukay 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 Arab on Radar to the funk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Stereo Dub. All the underground hits.
All The Techniques tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bob Dylan 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gerry Rafferty record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Talk Talk,
Rites of Spring,
Lalann,
Grandmaster Flash,
Jimmy McGriff,
Erasure,
The Selecter,
John Holt,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Tommy Roe,
Negative Approach,
Unrelated Segments,
Gichy Dan,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Niagra,
Delon & Dalcan,
Motorama,
Matthew Bourne,
Visage,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Standells,
Half Japanese,
Girls At Our Best!,
Blossom Toes,
The Dirtbombs,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Crooked Eye,
The Slits,
Thee Headcoats,
Severed Heads,
The Sound,
The Fugs,
The Flesh Eaters,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Tears for Fears,
Aaron Thompson,
The Alarm Clocks,
Ultravox,
Marvin Gaye,
Make Up,
Faraquet,
Cluster,
The Cramps,
Jawbox,
Kayak,
Peter & Gordon,
Country Teasers,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Arcadia,
Susan Cadogan,
Deadbeat,
Man Parrish,
Sight & Sound,
Lucky Dragons,
Electric Prunes,
The Busters,
Mission of Burma,
Interpol,
Curtis Mayfield,
Sixth Finger,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Rapeman,
Alison Limerick,
Barry Ungar, Barry Ungar, Barry Ungar, Barry Ungar.
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.