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 Thailand and from Delhi.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 DJ Sneak to the jazz kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Kurtis Blow. All the underground hits.
All Connie Case tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Moon 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Dirtbombs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Fugs,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Buzzcocks,
Joe Finger,
Freddie Wadling,
Harmonia,
The Leaves,
ABBA,
Roy Ayers,
The Associates,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Andrew Hill,
Sugar Minott,
Shoche,
Dorothy Ashby,
Animal Collective,
Ken Boothe,
Brass Construction,
Organ,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Letta Mbulu,
The Detroit Cobras,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Gap Band,
The United States of America,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Saccharine Trust,
The Litter,
Joey Negro,
Smog,
Kurtis Blow,
Erykah Badu,
In Retrospect,
Angry Samoans,
Japan,
The Seeds,
Dawn Penn,
Zero Boys,
New Order,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Maleditus Sound,
Matthew Halsall,
The Evens,
Carl Craig,
The Zeros,
The Angels of Light,
Babytalk,
The Happenings,
Essential Logic,
E-Dancer,
PIL,
Quadrant,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Residents,
Howard Jones,
Isaac Hayes,
Janne Schatter,
Jacques Brel,
Interpol,
Wasted Youth,
Rakim,
Mission of Burma,
Harry Pussy, Harry Pussy, Harry Pussy, Harry Pussy.
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.