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 Andorra and from Delhi.
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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Wasted Youth to the crunk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Joyce Sims. All the underground hits.
All The Vogues tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Minnie Riperton record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Faust record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Man Eating Sloth,
Gerry Rafferty,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Underground Resistance,
The New Christs,
Moss Icon,
UT,
Pulsallama,
The Zeros,
Chrome,
Sight & Sound,
The Smoke,
OOIOO,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Chris Corsano,
Arthur Verocai,
Depeche Mode,
Eurythmics,
Gabor Szabo,
Joe Smooth,
Girls At Our Best!,
Outsiders,
Letta Mbulu,
ABBA,
The Motions,
Symarip,
R.M.O.,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Tim Buckley,
John Holt,
Mission of Burma,
Procol Harum,
The Names,
Zero Boys,
Tropical Tobacco,
Davy DMX,
Stiv Bators,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Searchers,
Soulsonic Force,
T.S.O.L.,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Albert Ayler,
Hasil Adkins,
Cameo,
Wally Richardson,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Malaria!,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Maurizio,
Toni Rubio,
Freddie Wadling,
Surgeon,
Archie Shepp,
The Standells,
Fad Gadget,
Susan Cadogan,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Index,
Deadbeat, Deadbeat, Deadbeat, Deadbeat.
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.