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 Syria and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1963 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 mellotron 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 Dennis Brown to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Talk Talk. All the underground hits.
All Teenage Jesus and the Jerks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Association record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 spring reverb and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pussy Galore record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Panda Bear,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Chris Corsano,
Brick,
Blancmange,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Bad Manners,
Marine Girls,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Young Rascals,
Robert Hood,
Subhumans,
Eli Mardock,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Walker Brothers,
Howard Jones,
Fad Gadget,
Terrestrial Tones,
Agent Orange,
Thompson Twins,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Letta Mbulu,
The Dave Clark Five,
This Heat,
Dark Day,
Parry Music,
the Bar-Kays,
The Velvet Underground,
David McCallum,
Gerry Rafferty,
New Age Steppers,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Fortunes,
X-102,
Skriet,
Gang of Four,
Gichy Dan,
Rapeman,
Pantaleimon,
Yusef Lateef,
kango's stein massive,
Amon Düül,
Don Cherry,
Magazine,
Fatback Band,
The Wake,
Brand Nubian,
Ice-T,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
New York Dolls,
Zapp,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Sight & Sound,
The Invisible,
The Fall,
Yaz,
Surgeon,
Arab on Radar,
H. Thieme,
Bill Near, Bill Near, Bill Near, Bill Near.
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.