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 Czech Republic and from Stockholm.
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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Bill Near to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Isaac Hayes. All the underground hits.
All Cybotron tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every A Flock of Seagulls 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Au Pairs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Roy Ayers,
Alton Ellis,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Masters at Work,
The Birthday Party,
The Tremeloes,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Technova,
Robert Hood,
Camberwell Now,
Mission of Burma,
June of 44,
Radio Birdman,
Faust,
Isaac Hayes,
X-Ray Spex,
EPMD,
Pussy Galore,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
John Holt,
The Star Department,
Chrome,
The Stooges,
Bobby Womack,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Livin' Joy,
The Moleskins,
Urselle,
Easy Going,
The Cramps,
Section 25,
Max Romeo,
Joe Finger,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Gories,
Pylon,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Radiohead,
Joy Division,
Alice Coltrane,
Tommy Roe,
Surgeon,
Flamin' Groovies,
Al Stewart,
Quantec,
The Modern Lovers,
Spoonie Gee,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Darondo,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Slick Rick,
Khruangbin,
Tomorrow,
John Foxx,
Ten City,
The Last Poets,
Stockholm Monsters,
Eden Ahbez,
The Gun Club,
Scrapy, Scrapy, Scrapy, Scrapy.
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.