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 Ireland and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Bronski Beat show in Brixton.
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 1965 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Ten City to the jazz kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Terror Squad Feat. Camron. All the underground hits.
All Eli Mardock tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Prince Buster record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 rhodes and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eli Mardock 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?
T. Rex,
Lucky Dragons,
Royal Trux,
Terrestrial Tones,
Y Pants,
Scan 7,
Eve St. Jones,
June Days,
Silicon Teens,
Cluster,
Marc Almond,
Quadrant,
Girls At Our Best!,
Los Fastidios,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Pagans,
Robert Wyatt,
Black Bananas,
Max Romeo,
Bad Manners,
Marcia Griffiths,
Leonard Cohen,
Kevin Saunderson,
Steve Hackett,
K-Klass,
Grauzone,
Godley & Creme,
In Retrospect,
Cal Tjader,
Trumans Water,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Bob Dylan,
Rhythm & Sound,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Fluxion,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Shoche,
Crash Course in Science,
Wally Richardson,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Gil Scott Heron,
Dawn Penn,
Bootsy Collins,
Unwound,
Danielle Patucci,
Tears for Fears,
June of 44,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Doors,
Pole,
Shuggie Otis,
Kerrie Biddell,
Lee Hazlewood,
Yazoo,
Lungfish,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
DJ Style,
Bang On A Can,
Hoover, Hoover, Hoover, Hoover.
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.