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 Andorra and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 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 The Leaves 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 World's Most. All the underground hits.
All The Smiths tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Magma record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 clarinet and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Five Americans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eve St. Jones,
Zapp,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Unrelated Segments,
Yusef Lateef,
Mary Jane Girls,
Main Source,
Ronan,
Technova,
The Litter,
Mission of Burma,
Q and Not U,
Model 500,
Mr. Review,
Bob Dylan,
Swell Maps,
Drexciya,
China Crisis,
Robert Görl,
The Angels of Light,
Pierre Henry,
Von Mondo,
Visage,
The Vogues,
Easy Going,
Moby Grape,
Excepter,
Robert Hood,
Soft Machine,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Associates,
The Black Dice,
10cc,
The Busters,
X-Ray Spex,
The Fire Engines,
Boogie Down Productions,
Bluetip,
Radio Birdman,
The Kinks,
The Monochrome Set,
Harmonia,
The Flesh Eaters,
Cymande,
Minny Pops,
Boz Scaggs,
Toni Rubio,
Das Ding,
The Monks,
FM Einheit,
Talk Talk,
Isaac Hayes,
The Skatalites,
Spandau Ballet,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
June of 44,
Hardrive,
Icehouse,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Five Americans,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Eurythmics,
Idris Muhammad, Idris Muhammad, Idris Muhammad, Idris Muhammad.
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.