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 Liechtenstein and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 Woodstock and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Lightning Bolt to the dance 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 Pylon. All the underground hits.
All Wings tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lafayette Afro Rock Band 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a London Community Gospel Choir record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Delon & Dalcan,
Eric Copeland,
Mo-Dettes,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Stockholm Monsters,
Glambeats Corp.,
Tomorrow,
Alice Coltrane,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Cecil Taylor,
The Toasters,
Iggy Pop,
Tres Demented,
Yaz,
Rapeman,
Lungfish,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Knickerbockers,
Sällskapet,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Cowsills,
Delta 5,
Black Bananas,
Throbbing Gristle,
Andrew Hill,
Sixth Finger,
Vainqueur,
The Human League,
Ralphi Rosario,
Adolescents,
Yellowson,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Aural Exciters,
Con Funk Shun,
The Residents,
Prince Buster,
Tubeway Army,
Oblivians,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Marine Girls,
Metal Thangz,
Eve St. Jones,
Bad Manners,
Alton Ellis,
Joyce Sims,
Aaron Thompson,
Rosa Yemen,
Crime,
Grauzone,
Black Moon,
Chris & Cosey,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Joe Finger,
Pantytec,
Sun Ra,
Slave,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Barrington Levy,
The Alarm Clocks,
Porter Ricks,
Lalo Schifrin,
Make Up, Make Up, Make Up, Make Up.
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.