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 Tuvalu and from Salvador.
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 1962 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1976 at the first Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Kas Product to the punk 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 Dead C. All the underground hits.
All KRS-One tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Names record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 synthesizer and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Young Marble Giants record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Y Pants,
Smog,
Susan Cadogan,
Deadbeat,
Sixth Finger,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Easy Going,
Crash Course in Science,
R.M.O.,
Alphaville,
Man Eating Sloth,
Harpers Bizarre,
Livin' Joy,
Electric Prunes,
Deakin,
Yazoo,
Arcadia,
Visage,
Grauzone,
the Human League,
Crooked Eye,
The Alarm Clocks,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Dead C,
Traffic Nightmare,
Deepchord,
Cybotron,
Pharoah Sanders,
Soul Sonic Force,
Hashim,
Symarip,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Selecter,
Man Parrish,
Marmalade,
Bobby Sherman,
Pole,
Bad Manners,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Blancmange,
Skaos,
DJ Sneak,
Boredoms,
The Wake,
Loose Ends,
John Lydon,
Mr. Review,
Quantec,
Kenny Larkin,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Bill Wells,
Brand Nubian,
Tres Demented,
Desert Stars,
The Seeds,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Golliwogs,
The Buckinghams,
Ten City,
Can,
The Offenders, The Offenders, The Offenders, The Offenders.
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.