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 Mauritania and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Paris.
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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Ohio Players to the punk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Peter & Gordon. All the underground hits.
All The Sisters of Mercy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Monolake 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Franke record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Severed Heads,
The Cramps,
The Detroit Cobras,
Magma,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Laurel Aitken,
Sun Ra,
K-Klass,
Roy Ayers,
Sarah Menescal,
DJ Sneak,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Ice-T,
The Buckinghams,
Freddie Wadling,
Grey Daturas,
Inner City,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Popol Vuh,
Crooked Eye,
Bobby Sherman,
Kayak,
Whodini,
Scientists,
Niagra,
Jimmy McGriff,
Max Romeo,
Lower 48,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Doors,
Gastr Del Sol,
MC5,
Gabor Szabo,
Sixth Finger,
Vladislav Delay,
Oblivians,
Bronski Beat,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Offenders,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Eddi Front,
Nils Olav,
Royal Trux,
The Fugs,
Symarip,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Slits,
Terry Callier,
Infiniti,
Jerry's Kids,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Junior Murvin,
Colin Newman,
The Toasters,
Deakin,
Hoover,
The American Breed,
Rufus Thomas,
The Fortunes,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Quadrant, Quadrant, Quadrant, Quadrant.
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.