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 Equatorial Guinea and from Paris.
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 1963 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Fifty Foot Hose to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Donny Hathaway. All the underground hits.
All Fad Gadget tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gil Scott Heron record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fugs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Swell Maps,
The Dirtbombs,
June Days,
David Bowie,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Index,
Radiopuhelimet,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Trojans,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Davy DMX,
Don Cherry,
Ten City,
Fad Gadget,
Thee Headcoats,
Scan 7,
Kayak,
The Doors,
Essential Logic,
Camouflage,
Girls At Our Best!,
Charles Mingus,
Scion,
Hoover,
Suburban Knight,
Tomorrow,
Magma,
John Foxx,
Yusef Lateef,
Barbara Tucker,
Underground Resistance,
OOIOO,
Soft Cell,
The Index,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Fatback Band,
Adolescents,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Nils Olav,
Grey Daturas,
Pussy Galore,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Arthur Verocai,
Eric Copeland,
T. Rex,
Lindisfarne,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Pylon,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Metal Thangz,
Y Pants,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Accadde A,
The Offenders,
Tropical Tobacco,
Theoretical Girls,
Anakelly,
DNA,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Danielle Patucci,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Kurtis Blow,
Gang of Four,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Matthew Bourne, Matthew Bourne, Matthew Bourne, Matthew Bourne.
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.