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 India and from Seoul.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Faraquet to the rap kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Mantronix. All the underground hits.
All The Skatalites tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fugazi 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Martian record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Smiths,
Black Pus,
Quantec,
FM Einheit,
The Selecter,
The Doors,
The Tremeloes,
Bootsy Collins,
Mandrill,
Technova,
A Certain Ratio,
Bobby Womack,
Terry Callier,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Stetsasonic,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Mark Hollis,
The Buckinghams,
Babytalk,
Talk Talk,
Franke,
Au Pairs,
June of 44,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
the Sonics,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Visage,
Dual Sessions,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Brothers Johnson,
the Germs,
The Fortunes,
Pulsallama,
The Electric Prunes,
Unwound,
Stiv Bators,
X-102,
Eden Ahbez,
The Leaves,
Tomorrow,
Hasil Adkins,
Cal Tjader,
Spandau Ballet,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Los Fastidios,
Jacques Brel,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Fat Boys,
The Young Rascals,
8 Eyed Spy,
Tubeway Army,
Sonny Sharrock,
Albert Ayler,
The Names,
the Normal,
Warsaw,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Litter,
Connie Case,
The Happenings,
Big Daddy Kane,
Scientists, Scientists, Scientists, Scientists.
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.