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 Turkmenistan and from Lagos.
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 1968 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 The Five Americans to the rock kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Names. All the underground hits.
All Kevin Saunderson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Public Enemy 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Peanut Butter Conspiracy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Count Five,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Gregory Isaacs,
Blancmange,
The Slackers,
Carl Craig,
The Modern Lovers,
Shuggie Otis,
Quadrant,
Pierre Henry,
Con Funk Shun,
Wolf Eyes,
Ultra Naté,
Lou Christie,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Procol Harum,
Fluxion,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Josef K,
The Skatalites,
Grey Daturas,
The Blues Magoos,
Marc Almond,
Magma,
Cameo,
Lakeside,
Robert Wyatt,
The Durutti Column,
Fela Kuti,
Funky Four + One,
Lungfish,
Ken Boothe,
Pet Shop Boys,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Cowsills,
Los Fastidios,
Dennis Brown,
Mo-Dettes,
The Martian,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
the Human League,
Camouflage,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Roxette,
The Offenders,
a-ha,
Wire,
Sarah Menescal,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Popol Vuh,
the Slits,
Skaos,
Model 500,
Janne Schatter,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Barrington Levy,
Sex Pistols,
Babytalk,
Section 25,
Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd.
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.