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 Bangladesh and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the güiro 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 Last Poets to the rap kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 DNA. All the underground hits.
All Con Funk Shun tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ultra Naté record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Das Ding record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
One Last Wish,
Stiv Bators,
Saccharine Trust,
Scan 7,
Rapeman,
T. Rex,
Wolf Eyes,
The Pretty Things,
Pulsallama,
Terrestrial Tones,
Easy Going,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Circle Jerks,
Crime,
The Five Americans,
The Moody Blues,
Rufus Thomas,
Trumans Water,
John Coltrane,
Frankie Knuckles,
the Fania All-Stars,
Brothers Johnson,
Lungfish,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Main Source,
Accadde A,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Au Pairs,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Index,
World's Most,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Kevin Saunderson,
Wings,
Curtis Mayfield,
Eric B and Rakim,
Television Personalities,
The Selecter,
John Holt,
Eli Mardock,
Joe Finger,
Black Sheep,
John Foxx,
The Neon Judgement,
Kerrie Biddell,
John Cale,
Archie Shepp,
Todd Rundgren,
The Human League,
Television,
The Walker Brothers,
Gang of Four,
Minnie Riperton,
Japan,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Aural Exciters,
DNA,
Robert Görl,
The Divine Comedy,
Howard Jones,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Q65, Q65, Q65, Q65.
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.