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 Uruguay and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Crispy Ambulance to the techno kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Freddie Wadling. All the underground hits.
All Brothers Johnson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eric B and Rakim record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Erasure record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fela Kuti,
James White and The Blacks,
Althea and Donna,
Mary Jane Girls,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Gichy Dan,
K-Klass,
Popol Vuh,
Minny Pops,
48th St. Collective,
The Last Poets,
H. Thieme,
Robert Görl,
John Cale,
Roxette,
Ludus,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Martian,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Derrick Morgan,
Pagans,
Sound Behaviour,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Eve St. Jones,
The Index,
Sparks,
Jawbox,
Pylon,
Kevin Saunderson,
Procol Harum,
Barclay James Harvest,
Henry Cow,
The Saints,
the Soft Cell,
Tres Demented,
The Fortunes,
Television,
The Busters,
Idris Muhammad,
Bobby Byrd,
Man Eating Sloth,
One Last Wish,
The Doobie Brothers,
Siglo XX,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Motorama,
Jacob Miller,
Main Source,
Funkadelic,
Matthew Halsall,
Echospace,
Neu!,
Marc Almond,
Darondo,
Brand Nubian,
The Smiths,
Ten City,
The Electric Prunes,
Joe Smooth,
Minutemen,
Livin' Joy,
Rhythm & Sound,
Monks,
The Happenings, The Happenings, The Happenings, The Happenings.
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.