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 Luxembourg and from Taipei.
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 1963 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 LL Cool J to the dance 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 Aaron Thompson. All the underground hits.
All Sun Ra Arkestra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Barrington Levy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Faust,
The Smiths,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Freddie Wadling,
The Fall,
Thee Headcoats,
Connie Case,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Animal Collective,
Skriet,
Cecil Taylor,
Pussy Galore,
Mo-Dettes,
The Human League,
Grey Daturas,
Tres Demented,
Aswad,
Sly & The Family Stone,
X-Ray Spex,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Index,
Marmalade,
Motorama,
Lou Reed,
Grauzone,
Arthur Verocai,
Radiohead,
Scrapy,
Gabor Szabo,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Jacques Brel,
Suicide,
Sarah Menescal,
Ultravox,
The Electric Prunes,
Terry Callier,
Warren Ellis,
Jerry's Kids,
Yazoo,
Al Stewart,
June of 44,
Tropical Tobacco,
New York Dolls,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Black Pus,
Boogie Down Productions,
Bauhaus,
Magazine,
Brass Construction,
The Litter,
The Raincoats,
X-101,
Sister Nancy,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Adolescents,
Henry Cow,
Steve Hackett,
Dark Day,
Sällskapet,
Youth Brigade,
Fear, Fear, Fear, Fear.
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.