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 Swaziland and from Winnipeg.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Portland.
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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the organ 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 Letta Mbulu to the rap 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 Dead Boys. All the underground hits.
All Aloha Tigers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Cowsills 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bootsy's Rubber Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Smoke,
The Toasters,
The Invisible,
The Victims,
Pierre Henry,
Bill Wells,
Duran Duran,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Deepchord,
Von Mondo,
The Litter,
Jesper Dahlback,
Lebanon Hanover,
Deakin,
Easy Going,
Skriet,
Television Personalities,
Pantytec,
Circle Jerks,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Skaos,
Rakim,
Au Pairs,
Avey Tare,
Tears for Fears,
Leonard Cohen,
The Misunderstood,
The Monks,
Rites of Spring,
Marshall Jefferson,
Donny Hathaway,
The Red Krayola,
Make Up,
Kas Product,
Youth Brigade,
The Gap Band,
Nik Kershaw,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Flesh Eaters,
A Certain Ratio,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Fear,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Outsiders,
The Cowsills,
Steve Hackett,
Motorama,
Parry Music,
The Trojans,
Mo-Dettes,
Throbbing Gristle,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Raincoats,
Barbara Tucker,
Sight & Sound,
The Fuzztones,
The Buckinghams,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
K-Klass,
Hot Snakes, Hot Snakes, Hot Snakes, Hot Snakes.
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.