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 Tuvalu and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Man Eating Sloth to the jazz 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 J.B.'s. All the underground hits.
All Liliput tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Pus record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Television Personalities,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Wolf Eyes,
Surgeon,
The Electric Prunes,
Loose Ends,
Delon & Dalcan,
48th St. Collective,
Boredoms,
Mars,
Banda Bassotti,
Buzzcocks,
The Beau Brummels,
X-101,
Ultimate Spinach,
Blancmange,
Adolescents,
Simply Red,
Can,
Lou Reed,
The Tremeloes,
Bootsy Collins,
Crispy Ambulance,
Interpol,
The Move,
Second Layer,
Donny Hathaway,
ABC,
Johnny Osbourne,
X-Ray Spex,
Zero Boys,
Crash Course in Science,
The Names,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Dave Gahan,
Gang Gang Dance,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Dark Day,
Icehouse,
cv313,
The Remains,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Doors,
The Gladiators,
The Monks,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Scrapy,
Robert Hood,
Avey Tare,
Easy Going,
Suburban Knight,
Cheater Slicks,
Black Bananas,
EPMD,
Subhumans,
The Pretty Things,
Ten City,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
PIL,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The United States of America,
The Happenings, The Happenings, The Happenings, The Happenings.
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.