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 Turkmenistan and from Glasgow.
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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the theremin 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 Ornette Coleman to the punk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Divine Comedy. All the underground hits.
All Godley & Creme tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lizzy Mercier Descloux record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Flipper record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Knickerbockers,
New Order,
Amon Düül,
Stetsasonic,
Lalann,
Cheater Slicks,
The Count Five,
Wasted Youth,
Skarface,
Malaria!,
Sexual Harrassment,
Harmonia,
X-101,
Amazonics,
Kerri Chandler,
Simply Red,
Bobby Sherman,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Doors,
Sällskapet,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
AZ,
The Beau Brummels,
Bobby Womack,
World's Most,
T.S.O.L.,
Main Source,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Thee Headcoats,
MC5,
The Vogues,
Matthew Bourne,
JFA,
ABBA,
The Alarm Clocks,
Crooked Eye,
Minnie Riperton,
Jandek,
The Last Poets,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Bobby Byrd,
Aswad,
the Fania All-Stars,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
the Germs,
Grauzone,
Fad Gadget,
Index,
John Coltrane,
Gil Scott Heron,
Colin Newman,
Barrington Levy,
Massinfluence,
Royal Trux,
Desert Stars,
Grandmaster Flash,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Angels of Light,
Bill Near,
Cal Tjader,
Hardrive,
Interpol, Interpol, Interpol, Interpol.
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.