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 Sierra Leone and from Taipei.
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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Sam Rivers 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 The Alarm Clocks. All the underground hits.
All Chris & Cosey tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Young Rascals 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Gun Club record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Graham Central Station,
X-102,
Wally Richardson,
Ten City,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Symarip,
Ultra Naté,
Andrew Hill,
The Gap Band,
Severed Heads,
Pere Ubu,
Blake Baxter,
Crispian St. Peters,
Todd Terry,
The Cure,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Maurizio,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Quantec,
Al Stewart,
The Cosmic Jokers,
It's A Beautiful Day,
DJ Sneak,
Janne Schatter,
D'Angelo,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Second Layer,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Prince Buster,
The Doors,
Gichy Dan,
The Mummies,
Accadde A,
Cheater Slicks,
The Gun Club,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
the Germs,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Black Moon,
Cymande,
Ultravox,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Yaz,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Alarm Clocks,
Cluster,
Ossler,
The Leaves,
Camberwell Now,
Warren Ellis,
Crooked Eye,
the Association,
The Grass Roots,
Desert Stars,
Gerry Rafferty,
Crash Course in Science,
Y Pants,
Ludus,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Black Flag,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Pretty Things, The Pretty Things, The Pretty Things, The Pretty Things.
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.