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 Paraguay and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the oboe 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 Popol Vuh to the rock 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 Soft Machine. All the underground hits.
All Average White Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gian Franco Pienzio record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Prince Buster record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Smiths,
Radiohead,
Freddie Wadling,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Icehouse,
cv313,
Scott Walker,
Bang On A Can,
Dark Day,
Boredoms,
Marine Girls,
Andrew Hill,
Panda Bear,
Circle Jerks,
Marshall Jefferson,
Eric B and Rakim,
Piero Umiliani,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Yusef Lateef,
The Sound,
Lucky Dragons,
Angry Samoans,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Mummies,
The Martian,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Funky Four + One,
Simply Red,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Saints,
Thompson Twins,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Don Cherry,
Sonny Sharrock,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Boogie Down Productions,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Real Kids,
Moss Icon,
B.T. Express,
Bootsy Collins,
Godley & Creme,
June Days,
Blossom Toes,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Eurythmics,
New Age Steppers,
The Happenings,
The Slackers,
Tres Demented,
Davy DMX,
The Mojo Men,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Susan Cadogan,
Jimmy McGriff,
Sällskapet,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Remains,
Faust,
Anakelly,
The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs.
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.