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 Thailand and from Seoul.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 harpsichord 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 Sandy B to the techno kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Men They Couldn't Hang. All the underground hits.
All John Cale tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Modern Lovers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 guitar and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang Gang Dance record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Dave Clark Five,
the Swans,
Faraquet,
Isaac Hayes,
Ultravox,
Flipper,
Delta 5,
The Alarm Clocks,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Pharoah Sanders,
Connie Case,
Oneida,
Basic Channel,
Sparks,
Gregory Isaacs,
Ituana,
Lightning Bolt,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Black Pus,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Jacques Brel,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Talk Talk,
Trumans Water,
T.S.O.L.,
Janne Schatter,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Fluxion,
Man Parrish,
Hardrive,
Jimmy McGriff,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Goldenarms,
Morten Harket,
Porter Ricks,
Nico,
Harpers Bizarre,
Maleditus Sound,
T. Rex,
Anakelly,
Crooked Eye,
Jawbox,
Television Personalities,
Sam Rivers,
Quando Quango,
Wally Richardson,
Roger Hodgson,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Nirvana,
Arcadia,
Angry Samoans,
Quantec,
Kayak,
Reuben Wilson,
Sonny Sharrock,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Moby Grape,
Fugazi,
Masters at Work,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Shoche,
Youth Brigade,
Gabor Szabo, Gabor Szabo, Gabor Szabo, Gabor Szabo.
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.