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 Kiribati and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Fat Boys to the electroclash 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 The Fuzztones. All the underground hits.
All The Associates tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Fire Engines 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kenny Larkin record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scion,
Scrapy,
Hoover,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Clear Light,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Remains,
Kayak,
Ultimate Spinach,
Carl Craig,
Grauzone,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Deakin,
Quadrant,
Matthew Halsall,
Camberwell Now,
Electric Prunes,
Erasure,
Toni Rubio,
UT,
T. Rex,
Alice Coltrane,
Pantaleimon,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Byron Stingily,
Yellowson,
Barbara Tucker,
F. McDonald,
Kool Moe Dee,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Ossler,
The Golliwogs,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Doobie Brothers,
Kaleidoscope,
Pet Shop Boys,
Janne Schatter,
ABBA,
Kurtis Blow,
Jimmy McGriff,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
One Last Wish,
Ken Boothe,
Glenn Branca,
Cluster,
Marine Girls,
Simply Red,
Sex Pistols,
Pantytec,
Rufus Thomas,
Mo-Dettes,
The Beau Brummels,
The Walker Brothers,
Todd Terry,
Arthur Verocai,
The Cure,
Kerri Chandler,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Joyce Sims,
Duran Duran, Duran Duran, Duran Duran, Duran Duran.
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.