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 Burkina and from Johannesburg.
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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 Sad Lovers and Giants to the disco kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Thinking Fellers Union Local 282. All the underground hits.
All Popol Vuh tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Loose Ends record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Liaisons Dangereuses record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Kinks,
Andrew Hill,
Skriet,
Cal Tjader,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Subhumans,
The Cowsills,
Robert Görl,
Malaria!,
Nick Fraelich,
Royal Trux,
Sarah Menescal,
The J.B.'s,
John Lydon,
Dark Day,
Lalo Schifrin,
David McCallum,
OOIOO,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Selecter,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Groovy Waters,
Bill Wells,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Maurizio,
Second Layer,
Accadde A,
X-Ray Spex,
the Human League,
Terry Callier,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
T. Rex,
June of 44,
The Invisible,
The Knickerbockers,
Easy Going,
Roxy Music,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Ossler,
Rod Modell,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
X-101,
F. McDonald,
Zero Boys,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Standells,
Popol Vuh,
Ronnie Foster,
DNA,
Joyce Sims,
The Durutti Column,
Dennis Brown,
Bill Near,
The Last Poets,
Grey Daturas,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Can,
Cymande,
DJ Style,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Peter and Kerry, Peter and Kerry, Peter and Kerry, Peter and Kerry.
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.