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 Jamaica and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Young Rascals to the disco kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Selector Dub Narcotic. All the underground hits.
All Donald Byrd tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every DNA record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nik Kershaw record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Monks,
New Age Steppers,
Arab on Radar,
ABBA,
Babytalk,
Chrome,
June of 44,
The Pretty Things,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Marmalade,
Theoretical Girls,
Magma,
The Litter,
Stockholm Monsters,
Con Funk Shun,
Soul Sonic Force,
Zapp,
Siglo XX,
Dave Gahan,
Fela Kuti,
The American Breed,
Black Sheep,
Masters at Work,
H. Thieme,
Minnie Riperton,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Massinfluence,
Crash Course in Science,
Angry Samoans,
Sound Behaviour,
The Divine Comedy,
X-101,
The Tremeloes,
Sun City Girls,
Bluetip,
Sixth Finger,
Peter and Kerry,
Grandmaster Flash,
Patti Smith,
A Certain Ratio,
Roxy Music,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Toasters,
Rites of Spring,
Vainqueur,
Sällskapet,
Kevin Saunderson,
This Heat,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Average White Band,
Ten City,
Todd Rundgren,
The Skatalites,
Severed Heads,
Graham Central Station,
Fluxion,
The Motions,
Electric Prunes,
Joey Negro,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Howard Jones,
Country Teasers,
Zero Boys, Zero Boys, Zero Boys, Zero Boys.
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.