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 Argentina and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Trumans Water to the dance 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 Boredoms. All the underground hits.
All Janne Schatter tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Reuben Wilson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 marimba and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a A Flock of Seagulls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Johnny Clarke,
John Coltrane,
The J.B.'s,
Newcleus,
Albert Ayler,
The Blues Magoos,
Crooked Eye,
Flash Fearless,
Interpol,
Fort Wilson Riot,
KRS-One,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Thee Headcoats,
Jerry's Kids,
The Neon Judgement,
Marmalade,
The Golliwogs,
Iggy Pop,
Crispian St. Peters,
Ralphi Rosario,
Hardrive,
Bad Manners,
Faraquet,
Marine Girls,
Massinfluence,
a-ha,
Spandau Ballet,
Skaos,
Pulsallama,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Toasters,
Y Pants,
New Order,
The Techniques,
Joyce Sims,
Eurythmics,
Wally Richardson,
The Gap Band,
Tres Demented,
The Busters,
Sixth Finger,
Duran Duran,
La Düsseldorf,
The Buckinghams,
The Seeds,
Kerri Chandler,
the Association,
The Associates,
Robert Wyatt,
Bauhaus,
Crispy Ambulance,
Marshall Jefferson,
Ultimate Spinach,
H. Thieme,
Joey Negro,
Fatback Band,
Black Sheep,
Archie Shepp, Archie Shepp, Archie Shepp, Archie Shepp.
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.