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 Yemen and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 marimba 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 Au Pairs to the rock kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Nik Kershaw. All the underground hits.
All Jeff Lynne tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Josef K 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Das Ding record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
These Immortal Souls,
Bobby Womack,
10cc,
Fat Boys,
The Detroit Cobras,
Rakim,
Crispian St. Peters,
Suburban Knight,
Crash Course in Science,
The Black Dice,
the Swans,
Quando Quango,
Man Eating Sloth,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Fugazi,
The Shadows of Knight,
F. McDonald,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Dirtbombs,
Popol Vuh,
Peter and Kerry,
Fluxion,
Masters at Work,
Warsaw,
The Leaves,
Maleditus Sound,
Man Parrish,
Tres Demented,
Yazoo,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
X-Ray Spex,
Niagra,
Nik Kershaw,
DJ Sneak,
Television Personalities,
Yaz,
Ultra Naté,
Little Man,
The Modern Lovers,
Wally Richardson,
Rufus Thomas,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Symarip,
Roxette,
Porter Ricks,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Connie Case,
Morten Harket,
This Heat,
Sister Nancy,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Soul II Soul,
Glambeats Corp.,
Marine Girls,
The Sound,
Technova,
Davy DMX,
Soul Sonic Force,
Quantec,
CMW,
Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols.
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.