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 Senegal and from Sao Paulo.
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 1963 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 spring reverb 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 Lafayette Afro Rock Band to the grime kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Beau Brummels. All the underground hits.
All A Certain Ratio tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wasted Youth record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Letta Mbulu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Skatalites,
Boz Scaggs,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Tommy Roe,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Cecil Taylor,
The Count Five,
The Fire Engines,
The Neon Judgement,
The Black Dice,
D'Angelo,
Deakin,
The Vogues,
Brass Construction,
Minny Pops,
The Leaves,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Pussy Galore,
The American Breed,
DJ Style,
Eric B and Rakim,
the Swans,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Hardrive,
The Durutti Column,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Spoonie Gee,
UT,
Moss Icon,
Reagan Youth,
The Gladiators,
The Blackbyrds,
The Modern Lovers,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Selecter,
Andrew Hill,
The Doobie Brothers,
John Holt,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Warren Ellis,
Tres Demented,
Severed Heads,
The Motions,
Franke,
Neu!,
Suicide,
Eurythmics,
Alice Coltrane,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Deadbeat,
JFA,
Gastr Del Sol,
Easy Going,
Maurizio,
Juan Atkins,
Anakelly,
The Mummies,
Rapeman,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Absolute Body Control,
Wolf Eyes,
Vladislav Delay,
Ken Boothe, Ken Boothe, Ken Boothe, Ken Boothe.
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.