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 Czech Republic and from Johannesburg.
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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Derrick Morgan to the dance 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 The Fugs. All the underground hits.
All Blake Baxter tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Boz Scaggs record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 guitar and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marc Almond record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Magazine,
The Shadows of Knight,
Ronnie Foster,
Circle Jerks,
Hoover,
X-101,
Tres Demented,
The Names,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Theoretical Girls,
Freddie Wadling,
Gang of Four,
The Alarm Clocks,
Alice Coltrane,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
KRS-One,
Pet Shop Boys,
Patti Smith,
Tommy Roe,
Lou Reed,
Lee Hazlewood,
Vainqueur,
Glenn Branca,
Max Romeo,
John Holt,
The Evens,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Litter,
Derrick May,
The Doors,
David Bowie,
Scott Walker,
kango's stein massive,
OOIOO,
The Seeds,
Swell Maps,
Gang Green,
Glambeats Corp.,
Crispian St. Peters,
Sonny Sharrock,
Guru Guru,
The Invisible,
Soul Sonic Force,
Eurythmics,
The Smoke,
Andrew Hill,
Radiopuhelimet,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Pretty Things,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Bang On A Can,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Alison Limerick,
Suburban Knight,
Sparks,
Jacob Miller,
Rhythm & Sound,
Whodini,
The Residents,
Carl Craig,
Nik Kershaw, Nik Kershaw, Nik Kershaw, Nik Kershaw.
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.