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 Cape Verde and from Cairo.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Nation of Ulysses to the techno kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Dave Clark Five. All the underground hits.
All Silicon Teens tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 chamberlin and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Lydon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ralphi Rosario,
Pussy Galore,
Glenn Branca,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Half Japanese,
Glambeats Corp.,
H. Thieme,
The Velvet Underground,
Franke,
Pharoah Sanders,
Jandek,
Sonic Youth,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Bad Manners,
New York Dolls,
One Last Wish,
Brass Construction,
Aloha Tigers,
Lyres,
Juan Atkins,
Khruangbin,
The Doobie Brothers,
Ten City,
Max Romeo,
Lower 48,
Massinfluence,
Rekid,
Peter & Gordon,
The American Breed,
Echospace,
Sugar Minott,
Ituana,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Marvin Gaye,
Buzzcocks,
The Toasters,
Dual Sessions,
Schoolly D,
8 Eyed Spy,
Harry Pussy,
B.T. Express,
Severed Heads,
Fugazi,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
DNA,
The Searchers,
The Trojans,
Angry Samoans,
Ken Boothe,
Japan,
Mad Mike,
the Human League,
The Seeds,
Bobby Byrd,
The Monochrome Set,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Bang On A Can,
John Foxx,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Idris Muhammad,
Cluster,
Guru Guru,
The Gap Band, The Gap Band, The Gap Band, The Gap Band.
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.