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 Cameroon 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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the sitar 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 Rekid to the crunk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Ituana. All the underground hits.
All Gang of Four tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every FM Einheit record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Chrome record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Blues Magoos,
Jeff Mills,
Ultra Naté,
Anakelly,
Index,
Dead Boys,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Dorothy Ashby,
Judy Mowatt,
Monks,
Hashim,
FM Einheit,
Ossler,
Franke,
Organ,
Magazine,
Archie Shepp,
Fluxion,
The Mummies,
The United States of America,
Byron Stingily,
Symarip,
Bauhaus,
Spandau Ballet,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Buzzcocks,
Pantaleimon,
Mo-Dettes,
Fear,
R.M.O.,
Ohio Players,
Crime,
The Monks,
Blancmange,
Lungfish,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Aloha Tigers,
Marvin Gaye,
The Star Department,
The Music Machine,
These Immortal Souls,
Stiv Bators,
David McCallum,
Soft Machine,
Gil Scott Heron,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Rekid,
Gregory Isaacs,
Howard Jones,
Echospace,
Fad Gadget,
Crispy Ambulance,
Groovy Waters,
New Order,
The Shadows of Knight,
Subhumans,
Tubeway Army,
Accadde A,
Reuben Wilson,
Jeff Lynne,
Minor Threat, Minor Threat, Minor Threat, Minor Threat.
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.