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 Lesotho and from Tehran.
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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Slick Rick to the rock kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud. All the underground hits.
All New York Dolls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lebanon Hanover 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Babytalk record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Warsaw,
Marmalade,
Joy Division,
The Fire Engines,
Bizarre Inc.,
Animal Collective,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Residents,
L. Decosne,
The Misunderstood,
Henry Cow,
Lightning Bolt,
Maurizio,
Glenn Branca,
Audionom,
Lalann,
Rekid,
The Selecter,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Robert Wyatt,
Black Pus,
Piero Umiliani,
The Cure,
The Gladiators,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Lyres,
Mark Hollis,
The Toasters,
Althea and Donna,
Mandrill,
Tropical Tobacco,
Skarface,
Bill Near,
Bob Dylan,
Ken Boothe,
Tom Boy,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Brand Nubian,
Traffic Nightmare,
Das Ding,
Robert Hood,
The Skatalites,
The Walker Brothers,
John Cale,
Suburban Knight,
Glambeats Corp.,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Girls At Our Best!,
Hasil Adkins,
Marine Girls,
June Days,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Babytalk,
Charles Mingus,
The Alarm Clocks,
Motorama,
Loose Ends,
Interpol,
Joe Smooth, Joe Smooth, Joe Smooth, Joe Smooth.
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.