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 Sri Lanka and from Milan.
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 1969 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Livin' Joy to the electroclash 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 Terry Callier. All the underground hits.
All Sex Pistols tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Franke 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Invisible record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Coltrane,
T. Rex,
Motorama,
Reuben Wilson,
Joe Smooth,
cv313,
E-Dancer,
Thompson Twins,
Vainqueur,
Wally Richardson,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Black Pus,
Rufus Thomas,
Eve St. Jones,
The Neon Judgement,
The Kinks,
The Durutti Column,
The J.B.'s,
Y Pants,
Mark Hollis,
Funkadelic,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Black Bananas,
Ten City,
Banda Bassotti,
The Zeros,
Vladislav Delay,
The Gladiators,
Jawbox,
Darondo,
Donny Hathaway,
Youth Brigade,
KRS-One,
The Pretty Things,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Five Americans,
X-Ray Spex,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Girls At Our Best!,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
the Normal,
Stockholm Monsters,
Ralphi Rosario,
Sister Nancy,
Glambeats Corp.,
Lightning Bolt,
Aaron Thompson,
Erykah Badu,
The Residents,
Sun City Girls,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Circle Jerks,
Marshall Jefferson,
Anakelly,
Graham Central Station,
Max Romeo,
Hardrive,
AZ, AZ, AZ, AZ.
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.