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 Sao Paulo.
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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Big Daddy Kane to the jazz 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 Eve St. Jones. All the underground hits.
All Nation of Ulysses tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jimmy McGriff record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Heaven 17 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
This Heat,
Pere Ubu,
Sonny Sharrock,
a-ha,
The Residents,
Ituana,
Symarip,
A Certain Ratio,
Brick,
Susan Cadogan,
The Cowsills,
Tommy Roe,
Livin' Joy,
48th St. Collective,
Massinfluence,
Zapp,
The Wake,
The Angels of Light,
The Moody Blues,
Swans,
The Durutti Column,
Mad Mike,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Marine Girls,
Bush Tetras,
B.T. Express,
Jandek,
Quando Quango,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Yaz,
X-102,
Newcleus,
L. Decosne,
Harry Pussy,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Jeff Lynne,
Alphaville,
Colin Newman,
Rites of Spring,
Patti Smith,
Porter Ricks,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Moleskins,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Gun Club,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
10cc,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Ohio Players,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Skarface,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Carl Craig,
The Blackbyrds,
Procol Harum,
The Zeros,
Soul II Soul,
Nirvana,
Flipper,
Ultravox,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Grass Roots,
Easy Going,
Bobbi Humphrey, Bobbi Humphrey, Bobbi Humphrey, Bobbi Humphrey.
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.