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 Tajikistan and from Portland.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 chamberlin 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 Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon to the punk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 X-101. All the underground hits.
All Kevin Saunderson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fad Gadget 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Roxy Music record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Blossom Toes,
Angry Samoans,
Gichy Dan,
Roxy Music,
UT,
AZ,
New York Dolls,
Harry Pussy,
Dual Sessions,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Blancmange,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Monks,
Quadrant,
Barbara Tucker,
Harmonia,
DJ Style,
Hot Snakes,
The Young Rascals,
Liliput,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Offenders,
Ultimate Spinach,
Neil Young,
The Victims,
Pagans,
Deepchord,
Kayak,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Pretty Things,
Aural Exciters,
The Toasters,
8 Eyed Spy,
Ituana,
The Busters,
Parry Music,
Grauzone,
Nation of Ulysses,
Supertramp,
Talk Talk,
Jeff Lynne,
The Angels of Light,
Von Mondo,
The Smoke,
JFA,
Spandau Ballet,
The Martian,
Unwound,
Agitation Free,
Prince Buster,
Pussy Galore,
Flipper,
Can,
Jeff Mills,
Black Flag,
Theoretical Girls,
Connie Case,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Siglo XX, Siglo XX, Siglo XX, Siglo XX.
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.