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 Equatorial Guinea and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 synthesizer 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 Bobbi Humphrey to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Durutti Column. All the underground hits.
All Rosa Yemen tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Stereo Dub record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Aloha Tigers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Moby Grape,
The Monks,
Spandau Ballet,
Prince Buster,
The Litter,
Stiv Bators,
Grey Daturas,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Kerri Chandler,
Faraquet,
MDC,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Skriet,
Cal Tjader,
The Seeds,
Can,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Visage,
Funkadelic,
Reagan Youth,
Kurtis Blow,
Kenny Larkin,
Tomorrow,
X-101,
Radio Birdman,
Wolf Eyes,
Vainqueur,
Dual Sessions,
Radiopuhelimet,
Neu!,
The Moody Blues,
Fad Gadget,
Pole,
Gerry Rafferty,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Monks,
The Sound,
Dark Day,
a-ha,
Deakin,
Charles Mingus,
KRS-One,
Scan 7,
Make Up,
The Invisible,
Carl Craig,
Joyce Sims,
Fat Boys,
The Smiths,
Camberwell Now,
In Retrospect,
Isaac Hayes,
Adolescents,
Slave,
Harpers Bizarre,
Y Pants,
Fela Kuti,
Guru Guru,
Jesper Dahlback,
Rotary Connection,
The Motions,
Masters at Work,
AZ, AZ, AZ, AZ.
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.