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 Turkmenistan and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 guitar 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 De La Soul & Jungle Brothers to the techno kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Black Moon. All the underground hits.
All Piero Umiliani tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Public Enemy 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Mummies record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Remains,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Parry Music,
Scan 7,
Eric Copeland,
Joe Smooth,
Brass Construction,
X-Ray Spex,
Joey Negro,
Fela Kuti,
The United States of America,
Tomorrow,
James White and The Blacks,
Angry Samoans,
Model 500,
Amon Düül II,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Dirtbombs,
Dorothy Ashby,
Rekid,
Soul II Soul,
Roxy Music,
the Human League,
Letta Mbulu,
Deakin,
Tropical Tobacco,
Howard Jones,
Funkadelic,
Rufus Thomas,
The Misunderstood,
The Wake,
Barrington Levy,
Sound Behaviour,
Jeru the Damaja,
Flamin' Groovies,
Steve Hackett,
John Lydon,
Aural Exciters,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Monks,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Youth Brigade,
The Moody Blues,
Hasil Adkins,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Black Flag,
the Normal,
Piero Umiliani,
The Leaves,
Kenny Larkin,
Bronski Beat,
Monolake,
Accadde A,
Infiniti,
Zero Boys,
The Invisible,
Clear Light,
Agitation Free,
Archie Shepp,
Bobby Womack, Bobby Womack, Bobby Womack, Bobby Womack.
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.