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 Slovenia and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle 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 1969 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Eric Copeland to the punk 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 Desert Stars. All the underground hits.
All Second Layer tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Human League 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nation of Ulysses record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Funky Four + One,
Peter and Kerry,
Bush Tetras,
Ronnie Foster,
The Grass Roots,
Joe Smooth,
Icehouse,
Audionom,
Surgeon,
Erykah Badu,
The Invisible,
Gil Scott Heron,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Connie Case,
Cheater Slicks,
Matthew Bourne,
Aaron Thompson,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Barbara Tucker,
Gang Gang Dance,
Bluetip,
DNA,
Schoolly D,
Lower 48,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
The Doobie Brothers,
Hot Snakes,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Pulsallama,
Livin' Joy,
Juan Atkins,
Inner City,
Rhythm & Sound,
Spoonie Gee,
Khruangbin,
Nils Olav,
Saccharine Trust,
Traffic Nightmare,
Alton Ellis,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Rites of Spring,
Marvin Gaye,
Rosa Yemen,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Harpers Bizarre,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Blackbyrds,
Scratch Acid,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Moebius,
Bill Wells,
Eric Copeland,
Gerry Rafferty,
Barclay James Harvest,
the Swans,
Pagans,
Gabor Szabo,
T. Rex,
Symarip,
UT,
New York Dolls,
Suicide,
Fad Gadget, Fad Gadget, Fad Gadget, Fad Gadget.
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.