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 Italy and from Toronto.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 mellotron 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 David Bowie to the punk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 London Community Gospel Choir. All the underground hits.
All Rhythm & Sound tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Oblivians record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Mojo Men record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Yusef Lateef,
8 Eyed Spy,
Gang of Four,
Maurizio,
Barclay James Harvest,
Slave,
The Smoke,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Aural Exciters,
The Remains,
Niagra,
Bauhaus,
Kerrie Biddell,
Marshall Jefferson,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
June of 44,
Sexual Harrassment,
Flamin' Groovies,
Charles Mingus,
Radiopuhelimet,
Cal Tjader,
Nick Fraelich,
Man Eating Sloth,
Porter Ricks,
The Invisible,
The Residents,
Wally Richardson,
Aaron Thompson,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Cecil Taylor,
The Monks,
Electric Prunes,
The Star Department,
Bush Tetras,
Saccharine Trust,
Joey Negro,
Faraquet,
One Last Wish,
Sonny Sharrock,
Sun City Girls,
Bronski Beat,
Radio Birdman,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Moody Blues,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Ralphi Rosario,
Circle Jerks,
Yazoo,
Au Pairs,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Wings,
ABBA,
The Slackers,
Section 25,
Zero Boys,
Technova,
Half Japanese,
Goldenarms,
Intrusion,
Masters at Work,
Colin Newman,
Sound Behaviour, Sound Behaviour, Sound Behaviour, Sound Behaviour.
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.