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 Equatorial Guinea and from Shanghai.
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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 J.B.'s to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Subhumans. All the underground hits.
All Harmonia tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Stockholm Monsters 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Cale record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kaleidoscope,
Terry Callier,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Human League,
Suicide,
The Blackbyrds,
Clear Light,
The Names,
Mandrill,
Angry Samoans,
Aswad,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Blues Magoos,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Anthony Braxton,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Monks,
The Pretty Things,
Gang Gang Dance,
Excepter,
Ossler,
The Zeros,
Toni Rubio,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Faraquet,
Amon Düül,
Marshall Jefferson,
Supertramp,
Joe Smooth,
Bauhaus,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
The Mummies,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Model 500,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Yellowson,
Magma,
Susan Cadogan,
Public Image Ltd.,
David Axelrod,
Eric Copeland,
Janne Schatter,
Judy Mowatt,
Ultravox,
The Monochrome Set,
Severed Heads,
The Vogues,
Arthur Verocai,
Eve St. Jones,
Lee Hazlewood,
World's Most,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Fugazi,
Warsaw,
Barrington Levy,
Stetsasonic,
Schoolly D,
Steve Hackett,
Joey Negro,
Sam Rivers,
Althea and Donna, Althea and Donna, Althea and Donna, Althea and Donna.
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.