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 Guinea-Bissau and from Edmonton.
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 1965 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Rod Modell to the rap 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 Gang of Four. All the underground hits.
All Vladislav Delay tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Brand Nubian record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tres Demented,
Man Parrish,
Blake Baxter,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Scion,
Boredoms,
Colin Newman,
Lindisfarne,
Sandy B,
Altered Images,
Rosa Yemen,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Con Funk Shun,
Lou Reed,
The Misunderstood,
The United States of America,
Vainqueur,
Robert Wyatt,
Absolute Body Control,
Minnie Riperton,
Gastr Del Sol,
Anthony Braxton,
Barbara Tucker,
Chris & Cosey,
Sun City Girls,
Ultravox,
The Standells,
The Monks,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Marvin Gaye,
Neil Young,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Five Americans,
T. Rex,
Unrelated Segments,
the Sonics,
Davy DMX,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Peter & Gordon,
The Residents,
Television Personalities,
Sun Ra,
Darondo,
Roxette,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Victims,
Quantec,
Radiopuhelimet,
Juan Atkins,
Stetsasonic,
Ultra Naté,
Roger Hodgson,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Zapp,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Quadrant,
Delon & Dalcan,
Yazoo,
Marmalade,
China Crisis,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo, Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo, Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo, Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo.
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.