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 Pakistan and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle 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 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Barbara Tucker to the grime kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 The Fall. All the underground hits.
All Steve Hackett tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Barry Ungar record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Funky Four + One record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Spandau Ballet,
Unrelated Segments,
Deakin,
The Toasters,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Marvin Gaye,
Maleditus Sound,
June Days,
Nico,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Mojo Men,
T.S.O.L.,
Aural Exciters,
Underground Resistance,
Marcia Griffiths,
Popol Vuh,
Fat Boys,
Rites of Spring,
The Birthday Party,
The Blackbyrds,
Yusef Lateef,
Byron Stingily,
Jacob Miller,
The Knickerbockers,
The Mummies,
The Tremeloes,
Second Layer,
Sonny Sharrock,
Skriet,
The Cowsills,
Bush Tetras,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
A Certain Ratio,
Kool Moe Dee,
Dorothy Ashby,
Arthur Verocai,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Rakim,
In Retrospect,
Wire,
Pole,
Ronnie Foster,
Main Source,
Spoonie Gee,
Gang Starr,
Roxette,
These Immortal Souls,
F. McDonald,
Severed Heads,
Au Pairs,
T. Rex,
Make Up,
Amon Düül II,
Letta Mbulu,
Girls At Our Best!,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Los Fastidios,
New York Dolls,
Lyres,
Joey Negro,
Joe Finger,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Deadbeat, Deadbeat, Deadbeat, Deadbeat.
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.