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 Trinidad & Tobago and from Beijing.
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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Tehran.
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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Notorious Big And Bone Thugs to the rock 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 Crispian St. Peters. All the underground hits.
All Television tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scrapy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sixth Finger record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Minutemen,
Suicide,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Qualms,
Depeche Mode,
Sight & Sound,
Erasure,
The Gun Club,
Sister Nancy,
Howard Jones,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Amon Düül,
The Durutti Column,
The Electric Prunes,
Japan,
Prince Buster,
Liliput,
Mantronix,
The Offenders,
Shuggie Otis,
Organ,
Severed Heads,
Idris Muhammad,
Royal Trux,
Saccharine Trust,
Main Source,
Talk Talk,
Boredoms,
The Shadows of Knight,
Soul II Soul,
Warsaw,
Interpol,
Pharoah Sanders,
Toni Rubio,
John Cale,
It's A Beautiful Day,
the Germs,
Grey Daturas,
Big Daddy Kane,
Albert Ayler,
Mad Mike,
Animal Collective,
Man Parrish,
Spoonie Gee,
John Lydon,
the Swans,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Metal Thangz,
Sugar Minott,
Dave Gahan,
Cymande,
Surgeon,
Byron Stingily,
Johnny Clarke,
Duran Duran,
Ralphi Rosario,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Trojans,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Glambeats Corp.,
Sandy B,
Blancmange,
Jacques Brel, Jacques Brel, Jacques Brel, Jacques Brel.
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.