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 Eritrea and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Gong to the punk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Schoolly D. All the underground hits.
All Siglo XX tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Talk Talk record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 an arpeggiator and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang of Four record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ronan,
Fugazi,
DJ Style,
The Cramps,
Severed Heads,
H. Thieme,
Junior Murvin,
Alphaville,
The Misunderstood,
The Slackers,
Andrew Hill,
A Certain Ratio,
Tommy Roe,
The Neon Judgement,
Soft Machine,
Pulsallama,
Iggy Pop,
Idris Muhammad,
Radiopuhelimet,
Supertramp,
The Vogues,
Eve St. Jones,
Moebius,
Agitation Free,
The Velvet Underground,
the Germs,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Lower 48,
Camberwell Now,
Man Eating Sloth,
Goldenarms,
Lungfish,
The Motions,
Deakin,
Qualms,
Smog,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Rapeman,
Zapp,
The Standells,
Alice Coltrane,
The Techniques,
Nick Fraelich,
Drive Like Jehu,
Fluxion,
Von Mondo,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Bush Tetras,
Dead Boys,
Lebanon Hanover,
Maurizio,
Bronski Beat,
The Offenders,
Loose Ends,
Siglo XX,
Faust,
Yellowson,
Leonard Cohen,
Barrington Levy,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Monolake, Monolake, Monolake, Monolake.
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.