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 Congo and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Ronan to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Index. All the underground hits.
All Hashim tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sällskapet record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Last Poets record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bang On A Can,
X-101,
Tubeway Army,
Barbara Tucker,
The Fortunes,
ABBA,
Porter Ricks,
Fugazi,
Dave Gahan,
The Invisible,
Silicon Teens,
The Modern Lovers,
Circle Jerks,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Panda Bear,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
X-Ray Spex,
Agitation Free,
Theoretical Girls,
China Crisis,
Traffic Nightmare,
Susan Cadogan,
Royal Trux,
Supertramp,
Heaven 17,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Trojans,
Leonard Cohen,
Carl Craig,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
New Order,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Move,
Magma,
Joe Smooth,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Red Krayola,
The Mojo Men,
Grey Daturas,
Fear,
Joy Division,
Cecil Taylor,
The Vogues,
The Blackbyrds,
Girls At Our Best!,
F. McDonald,
Eddi Front,
Youth Brigade,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Scion,
R.M.O.,
The Smoke,
Subhumans,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Ohio Players,
The Stooges,
Colin Newman,
Lou Christie,
Y Pants,
Throbbing Gristle,
Blancmange,
John Cale, John Cale, John Cale, John Cale.
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.