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 Taiwan and from Columbus.
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 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Marc Almond to the rap 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 Von Mondo. All the underground hits.
All Justin Hinds & The Dominoes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Matthew Halsall record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 an organ and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Liliput record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Monks,
Marine Girls,
Jeru the Damaja,
China Crisis,
New York Dolls,
Erykah Badu,
La Düsseldorf,
Pere Ubu,
The Electric Prunes,
Amon Düül II,
Morten Harket,
Liliput,
Eurythmics,
The Grass Roots,
Simply Red,
Bootsy Collins,
John Coltrane,
Arab on Radar,
One Last Wish,
The Walker Brothers,
Lalann,
The Vogues,
Lucky Dragons,
the Soft Cell,
Black Flag,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Section 25,
The Slackers,
Sarah Menescal,
Reuben Wilson,
Slick Rick,
Sun Ra,
Don Cherry,
Arcadia,
The Human League,
Fad Gadget,
Pharoah Sanders,
Donald Byrd,
a-ha,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
the Germs,
Suburban Knight,
The Residents,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Crooked Eye,
James White and The Blacks,
Q65,
Kerrie Biddell,
Susan Cadogan,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Echospace,
T.S.O.L.,
Robert Görl,
Mr. Review,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Procol Harum,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Henry Cow,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
U.S. Maple,
Jacques Brel,
Ponytail,
The Flesh Eaters, The Flesh Eaters, The Flesh Eaters, The Flesh Eaters.
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.