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 Seychelles and from Woodstock.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the 808 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 The Associates to the funk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Sad Lovers and Giants. All the underground hits.
All The Names tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dawn Penn 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Golliwogs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Gang Green,
Charles Mingus,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Roy Ayers,
The Cramps,
The Victims,
Main Source,
The Kinks,
The Knickerbockers,
Qualms,
Joey Negro,
Pylon,
Harpers Bizarre,
Connie Case,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Joyce Sims,
Pussy Galore,
Roxy Music,
Eric Copeland,
Ituana,
Kurtis Blow,
Shuggie Otis,
Tomorrow,
Loose Ends,
The Tremeloes,
Aaron Thompson,
The Gun Club,
Easy Going,
Josef K,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Colin Newman,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Don Cherry,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Cameo,
Whodini,
Unrelated Segments,
Cluster,
the Bar-Kays,
the Human League,
Nik Kershaw,
Black Sheep,
Sugar Minott,
Lyres,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Bush Tetras,
Au Pairs,
New York Dolls,
Unwound,
Popol Vuh,
Icehouse,
Derrick May,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
World's Most,
Agent Orange,
Sexual Harrassment,
KRS-One,
Wings, Wings, Wings, Wings.
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.