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 Poland and from Stockholm.
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 1964 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Neil Young & Crazy Horse to the punk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Dead C. All the underground hits.
All Schoolly D tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Althea and Donna record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 an organ and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Alarm Clocks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Sex Pistols,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Swell Maps,
Gabor Szabo,
Pharoah Sanders,
Flipper,
Jeff Mills,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Oblivians,
Mad Mike,
The Residents,
Fad Gadget,
Blossom Toes,
Whodini,
The Dave Clark Five,
Sandy B,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Bobby Womack,
Quantec,
Jeff Lynne,
The Associates,
Brick,
Barrington Levy,
Youth Brigade,
Idris Muhammad,
Oneida,
Black Flag,
The Blues Magoos,
Bush Tetras,
Reagan Youth,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Stetsasonic,
Minnie Riperton,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Marcia Griffiths,
Sugar Minott,
The Gladiators,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Fatback Band,
Thompson Twins,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Red Krayola,
The Five Americans,
Wolf Eyes,
Maurizio,
New Order,
Junior Murvin,
Brand Nubian,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Parry Music,
Crooked Eye,
Stereo Dub,
Eddi Front,
The Motions,
Charles Mingus,
Hoover,
The Smiths,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Liliput,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Suicide, Suicide, Suicide, Suicide.
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.