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 Maldives and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1960 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 The Smoke to the electroclash 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 Bobby Hutcherson. All the underground hits.
All Reuben Wilson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Slave record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Trumans Water record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rekid,
Roger Hodgson,
The Sound,
Marcia Griffiths,
Monks,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Martian,
Todd Rundgren,
The Fortunes,
Graham Central Station,
Skarface,
Rakim,
Vainqueur,
Henry Cow,
Royal Trux,
Sound Behaviour,
Gang Starr,
D'Angelo,
Carl Craig,
The Blackbyrds,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Davy DMX,
The Pop Group,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Scientists,
Liliput,
Gabor Szabo,
Infiniti,
Letta Mbulu,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Skatalites,
H. Thieme,
This Heat,
Drexciya,
In Retrospect,
New Age Steppers,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Joyce Sims,
Barbara Tucker,
The Divine Comedy,
Suicide,
The Buckinghams,
The Durutti Column,
Radiohead,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
EPMD,
Brand Nubian,
Chris Corsano,
The Dave Clark Five,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Jerry's Kids,
The Velvet Underground,
Sexual Harrassment,
Kayak,
Fela Kuti,
Ludus,
Slick Rick,
Kerrie Biddell,
Guru Guru,
The Walker Brothers, The Walker Brothers, The Walker Brothers, The Walker Brothers.
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.