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 Guinea-Bissau and from Taipei.
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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 La Düsseldorf to the dance kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Jeru the Damaja. All the underground hits.
All Public Enemy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Alarm Clocks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Anakelly record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Last Poets,
the Sonics,
Jacob Miller,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
the Human League,
The Tremeloes,
Sun City Girls,
Bronski Beat,
Magazine,
Grey Daturas,
The Move,
Minutemen,
A Certain Ratio,
JFA,
Lou Christie,
Public Enemy,
Eurythmics,
Davy DMX,
Junior Murvin,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Busters,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Fad Gadget,
The Cowsills,
Kayak,
The Standells,
Nas,
X-101,
The Durutti Column,
Yellowson,
Television Personalities,
The J.B.'s,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Index,
Brand Nubian,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Joe Finger,
Rekid,
Cecil Taylor,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Mo-Dettes,
Panda Bear,
Dual Sessions,
The Star Department,
The Dave Clark Five,
Barry Ungar,
The Alarm Clocks,
Tomorrow,
Arab on Radar,
Sister Nancy,
Bill Wells,
Hot Snakes,
Negative Approach,
Wire,
Procol Harum,
Adolescents,
Bobby Sherman,
Minor Threat,
Lebanon Hanover,
Lindisfarne,
Scientists, Scientists, Scientists, Scientists.
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.