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 Congo and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Seoul.
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 rhodes 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 Young Rascals to the rap kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Motions. All the underground hits.
All LL Cool J tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Stiv Bators 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Agent Orange record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rhythm & Sound,
David McCallum,
Lindisfarne,
Circle Jerks,
Bob Dylan,
Crash Course in Science,
Jeff Lynne,
DNA,
Traffic Nightmare,
Kas Product,
The Victims,
Todd Rundgren,
The Young Rascals,
Pulsallama,
Drexciya,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Rotary Connection,
The Buckinghams,
The Dirtbombs,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Dorothy Ashby,
Monks,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Amazonics,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Invisible,
Aswad,
Main Source,
Absolute Body Control,
Bauhaus,
Vladislav Delay,
Bill Wells,
Joyce Sims,
The Golliwogs,
The Beau Brummels,
Au Pairs,
a-ha,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Pussy Galore,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Star Department,
Boz Scaggs,
Banda Bassotti,
Bang On A Can,
MDC,
Minutemen,
Index,
Sixth Finger,
The Monochrome Set,
Sun City Girls,
Ken Boothe,
Faust,
D'Angelo,
Kerri Chandler,
Kaleidoscope,
Gang of Four,
Rekid,
Yazoo,
Roxy Music,
Jeru the Damaja,
Severed Heads,
Radiopuhelimet, Radiopuhelimet, Radiopuhelimet, Radiopuhelimet.
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.