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 Austria and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
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 The Count Five 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 Severed Heads. All the underground hits.
All Stockholm Monsters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Supertramp record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 harpsichord and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The American Breed record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Sun Ra,
Max Romeo,
Suicide,
Mo-Dettes,
Das Ding,
Archie Shepp,
Soul II Soul,
Monolake,
The Angels of Light,
David Bowie,
Fatback Band,
The Golliwogs,
Visage,
The Star Department,
Boz Scaggs,
Dawn Penn,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Boredoms,
The Count Five,
Sixth Finger,
Electric Prunes,
Bobby Byrd,
Scott Walker,
Television,
FM Einheit,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Gil Scott Heron,
Sugar Minott,
Glambeats Corp.,
Au Pairs,
Cecil Taylor,
Scientists,
Frankie Knuckles,
In Retrospect,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
New York Dolls,
Tim Buckley,
a-ha,
John Cale,
Tres Demented,
T.S.O.L.,
Althea and Donna,
AZ,
Moby Grape,
The Seeds,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Monks,
The Stooges,
Alphaville,
The Detroit Cobras,
Man Eating Sloth,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Parry Music,
Susan Cadogan,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Kool Moe Dee,
Tomorrow,
The Music Machine,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The Five Americans,
The Gladiators, The Gladiators, The Gladiators, The Gladiators.
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.