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 South Sudan and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1965 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 The Mojo Men to the grunge 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 The Saints. All the underground hits.
All Amon Düül tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Archie Shepp 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Five Americans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Quantec,
Neu!,
Patti Smith,
Colin Newman,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Soft Cell,
Lightning Bolt,
the Fania All-Stars,
Eddi Front,
Stiv Bators,
The Divine Comedy,
H. Thieme,
Crispian St. Peters,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Young Rascals,
The Moleskins,
Bad Manners,
Wolf Eyes,
Icehouse,
EPMD,
Rhythm & Sound,
The Leaves,
Sandy B,
Malaria!,
Scrapy,
Gong,
Guru Guru,
These Immortal Souls,
Stereo Dub,
ABBA,
the Sonics,
La Düsseldorf,
Thee Headcoats,
Gang of Four,
Danielle Patucci,
Spandau Ballet,
Pet Shop Boys,
Banda Bassotti,
LL Cool J,
Minny Pops,
Funky Four + One,
Lakeside,
Half Japanese,
Juan Atkins,
Letta Mbulu,
Bluetip,
Ten City,
Alice Coltrane,
Yusef Lateef,
The Move,
Surgeon,
Howard Jones,
Charles Mingus,
FM Einheit,
Deadbeat,
Pierre Henry,
Gichy Dan,
Nik Kershaw, Nik Kershaw, Nik Kershaw, Nik Kershaw.
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.