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 Cyprus and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and London.
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 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 David Bowie 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 American Breed to the techno kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Glambeats Corp.. All the underground hits.
All The Men They Couldn't Hang tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Human League 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sugar Minott record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Faust,
Judy Mowatt,
This Heat,
The Remains,
Camouflage,
Yellowson,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Residents,
Joy Division,
Pere Ubu,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Offenders,
Wally Richardson,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Fire Engines,
David Bowie,
Audionom,
Derrick May,
Quadrant,
The Zeros,
Pagans,
The Human League,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Hot Snakes,
Sound Behaviour,
Rod Modell,
Aural Exciters,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Hashim,
Q and Not U,
Banda Bassotti,
Bill Wells,
Kerrie Biddell,
Charles Mingus,
Radiohead,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Black Dice,
Desert Stars,
Chrome,
the Germs,
The Star Department,
CMW,
Frankie Knuckles,
Nik Kershaw,
Von Mondo,
Archie Shepp,
June Days,
Vladislav Delay,
The Victims,
One Last Wish,
Brand Nubian,
Gang of Four,
The Knickerbockers,
Scratch Acid,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Panda Bear,
Index,
Moebius,
Procol Harum,
Josef K,
Kas Product, Kas Product, Kas Product, Kas Product.
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.