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 Romania and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Lonnie Liston Smith to the crunk 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 Alison Limerick. All the underground hits.
All Zero Boys tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Traffic Nightmare record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 marimba and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Camouflage record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Hoover,
The Shadows of Knight,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Arthur Verocai,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Durutti Column,
Wire,
cv313,
kango's stein massive,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Clear Light,
Funkadelic,
Amon Düül,
Deepchord,
Skriet,
Piero Umiliani,
Joe Smooth,
Technova,
Audionom,
Bob Dylan,
Scion,
The Techniques,
Sonic Youth,
Faraquet,
Popol Vuh,
Can,
Nico,
Quando Quango,
Urselle,
Ultravox,
Subhumans,
Hot Snakes,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Amazonics,
Minor Threat,
Surgeon,
John Coltrane,
The Electric Prunes,
Desert Stars,
Slick Rick,
Eli Mardock,
Radiohead,
Jeru the Damaja,
Don Cherry,
Country Teasers,
Ituana,
Ken Boothe,
Rekid,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Gun Club,
The Smiths,
Slave,
The Smoke,
The Music Machine,
Severed Heads,
Hashim,
Lalo Schifrin,
Black Pus,
The Fall,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Alarm Clocks, The Alarm Clocks, The Alarm Clocks, The Alarm Clocks.
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.