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 Bahrain and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 chamberlin 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 Depeche Mode to the punk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth. All the underground hits.
All The Remains tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Human League record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lindisfarne 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?
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Tears for Fears,
Kas Product,
Minor Threat,
The Alarm Clocks,
Iggy Pop,
The Kinks,
The Walker Brothers,
Robert Görl,
L. Decosne,
Tommy Roe,
Todd Rundgren,
Bauhaus,
Robert Hood,
Q and Not U,
ABC,
The Litter,
The Gun Club,
Rod Modell,
Slave,
Yazoo,
Mantronix,
JFA,
Gil Scott Heron,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Connie Case,
Terry Callier,
Grey Daturas,
Matthew Halsall,
Symarip,
Cybotron,
The Grass Roots,
Maleditus Sound,
Bill Near,
Gang Starr,
Don Cherry,
Jeff Lynne,
The Golliwogs,
Icehouse,
Oblivians,
Sonic Youth,
Infiniti,
Sex Pistols,
Joey Negro,
Surgeon,
OOIOO,
Althea and Donna,
Los Fastidios,
Black Pus,
Pylon,
kango's stein massive,
The Blues Magoos,
Ken Boothe,
Ornette Coleman,
Country Teasers,
Severed Heads,
Cabaret Voltaire,
A Certain Ratio,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Faust,
H. Thieme,
Leonard Cohen,
Alice Coltrane,
Nik Kershaw, Nik Kershaw, Nik Kershaw, Nik Kershaw.
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.