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 Morocco and from Madrid.
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 1962 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 synthesizer 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 Eve St. Jones to the techno 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 Letta Mbulu. All the underground hits.
All Cabaret Voltaire tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scientists 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Associates record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Subhumans,
Gang Starr,
The Gap Band,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Nation of Ulysses,
Danielle Patucci,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Music Machine,
Crime,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
OOIOO,
Funkadelic,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Zeros,
Skarface,
Camberwell Now,
Fad Gadget,
Cecil Taylor,
The Trojans,
Sixth Finger,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Suburban Knight,
Section 25,
Radiohead,
Josef K,
Das Ding,
The Alarm Clocks,
Masters at Work,
Aloha Tigers,
Ultravox,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Animal Collective,
The Slits,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Eric Dolphy,
Soul Sonic Force,
Jeru the Damaja,
Eric B and Rakim,
Eric Copeland,
Theoretical Girls,
Metal Thangz,
ABBA,
Tres Demented,
Gerry Rafferty,
Porter Ricks,
Mad Mike,
Crispian St. Peters,
Amon Düül,
Blancmange,
Talk Talk,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Last Poets,
U.S. Maple,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Warren Ellis,
Terry Callier,
The Index,
Accadde A,
The Raincoats,
The Fugs,
Kurtis Blow, Kurtis Blow, Kurtis Blow, Kurtis Blow.
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.