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 Estonia and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 mellotron 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 Public Enemy to the rock kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Khruangbin. All the underground hits.
All Supertramp tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Minor Threat record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 linndrum and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T. Rex record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Stereo Dub,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Young Marble Giants,
Peter and Kerry,
Hasil Adkins,
Von Mondo,
the Association,
Jeru the Damaja,
Byron Stingily,
Franke,
Tom Boy,
Skaos,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Pantaleimon,
Warsaw,
David McCallum,
Swell Maps,
The Motions,
Scientists,
Circle Jerks,
Y Pants,
The Raincoats,
Frankie Knuckles,
Archie Shepp,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Bang On A Can,
MDC,
Audionom,
Faraquet,
Country Teasers,
The Red Krayola,
Bob Dylan,
Boz Scaggs,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Moleskins,
Eden Ahbez,
DNA,
Dawn Penn,
Parry Music,
Royal Trux,
Television,
Crispy Ambulance,
Trumans Water,
Gil Scott Heron,
Heaven 17,
Magma,
Minutemen,
The Smoke,
Second Layer,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Buckinghams,
The Real Kids,
Amon Düül,
Glambeats Corp.,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Eurythmics,
Fluxion,
Lalo Schifrin,
Josef K,
Interpol,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Skriet, Skriet, Skriet, Skriet.
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.