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 Albania and from Seoul.
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 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Gang Gang Dance to the rap kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Scratch Acid. All the underground hits.
All Boredoms tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mr. Review record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 theremin and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eric Copeland record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Model 500,
Saccharine Trust,
Marcia Griffiths,
Second Layer,
Stockholm Monsters,
Circle Jerks,
a-ha,
Y Pants,
Sun Ra,
Judy Mowatt,
The Fuzztones,
Blancmange,
Scott Walker,
Laurel Aitken,
Echospace,
Fatback Band,
Lyres,
Audionom,
Brass Construction,
Outsiders,
Neil Young,
Average White Band,
the Association,
EPMD,
D'Angelo,
Eden Ahbez,
The Mojo Men,
Altered Images,
Subhumans,
Eric Dolphy,
Todd Rundgren,
Fela Kuti,
Skaos,
Television,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Joe Smooth,
The Offenders,
Flipper,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Aswad,
Pet Shop Boys,
New Order,
Dead Boys,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Associates,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Moss Icon,
Bob Dylan,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Blackbyrds,
the Sonics,
Lou Christie,
Archie Shepp,
Wire,
10cc,
Alice Coltrane,
The Raincoats,
Arcadia,
The Seeds,
The Busters,
the Soft Cell,
The Cowsills,
Flamin' Groovies,
John Holt, John Holt, John Holt, John Holt.
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.