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 Gabon and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in 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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 oboe 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 Eric Copeland to the funk 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 Pet Shop Boys. All the underground hits.
All Kings Of Tomorrow tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Kinks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 spring reverb and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Popol Vuh record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Deepchord,
Bronski Beat,
Radiopuhelimet,
Be Bop Deluxe,
L. Decosne,
Arthur Verocai,
Cymande,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Ultra Naté,
Sun City Girls,
Arcadia,
The Angels of Light,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Crispy Ambulance,
the Bar-Kays,
Lalo Schifrin,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Grey Daturas,
Pharoah Sanders,
Essential Logic,
Q and Not U,
Agitation Free,
Graham Central Station,
Wings,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Stetsasonic,
Skaos,
Eric B and Rakim,
FM Einheit,
The Zeros,
The Real Kids,
Quando Quango,
Tim Buckley,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Spoonie Gee,
The Cramps,
Crime,
Rosa Yemen,
Peter and Kerry,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Maleditus Sound,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Kinks,
Donald Byrd,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Gap Band,
Au Pairs,
The Cowsills,
Bizarre Inc.,
Sonny Sharrock,
Sun Ra,
The Remains,
Public Image Ltd.,
Funkadelic,
Kenny Larkin,
Mad Mike,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Count Five,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Moody Blues,
Sister Nancy,
Lucky Dragons, Lucky Dragons, Lucky Dragons, Lucky Dragons.
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.