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 Macedonia and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band to the dance kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 U.S. Maple. All the underground hits.
All Girls At Our Best! tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marcia Griffiths record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Little Man record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Y Pants,
AZ,
Pere Ubu,
Pole,
The United States of America,
The Index,
Maurizio,
Suburban Knight,
Scientists,
Gang Gang Dance,
Pussy Galore,
Bill Near,
Delon & Dalcan,
Sällskapet,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Aswad,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Jeru the Damaja,
Bill Wells,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Alarm Clocks,
Bobby Womack,
The Black Dice,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
The American Breed,
Yellowson,
Fad Gadget,
Jacques Brel,
Radio Birdman,
Adolescents,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
New Age Steppers,
The Golliwogs,
The Fall,
Agent Orange,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Pulsallama,
The Monochrome Set,
Ohio Players,
Nas,
Model 500,
Spandau Ballet,
the Slits,
Electric Prunes,
FM Einheit,
MC5,
Agitation Free,
The Pretty Things,
Tropical Tobacco,
Barrington Levy,
UT,
U.S. Maple,
Metal Thangz,
Cecil Taylor,
Amon Düül II,
Colin Newman,
Deakin,
Soul II Soul,
Josef K,
The Doors,
Byron Stingily,
The Techniques, The Techniques, The Techniques, The Techniques.
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.