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 Morocco and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 the Association to the funk 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 Ajijia Myrayebe. All the underground hits.
All Louis and Bebe Barron tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Spoonie Gee record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 harpsichord and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Reuben Wilson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
T. Rex,
The J.B.'s,
Gang Green,
Niagra,
H. Thieme,
Stiv Bators,
the Sonics,
The Moleskins,
the Normal,
Donald Byrd,
Dead Boys,
Barclay James Harvest,
Alison Limerick,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Brass Construction,
The Tremeloes,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Amazonics,
Dave Gahan,
Black Bananas,
Babytalk,
Cameo,
Sight & Sound,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Flesh Eaters,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Frankie Knuckles,
Infiniti,
Johnny Clarke,
Desert Stars,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Roxette,
Soul II Soul,
The Last Poets,
Joensuu 1685,
Can,
Arab on Radar,
Patti Smith,
Neu!,
Japan,
Section 25,
The Durutti Column,
Average White Band,
Simply Red,
Nas,
Spandau Ballet,
Popol Vuh,
Mantronix,
Eric Dolphy,
Buzzcocks,
The Smoke,
EPMD,
Swell Maps,
Pantytec,
DNA,
Matthew Halsall,
The Mummies,
Urselle,
Mars, Mars, Mars, Mars.
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.