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 St Lucia and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Ponytail to the techno kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Buckinghams. All the underground hits.
All Moby Grape tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Foxx record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pussy Galore,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Gun Club,
The Busters,
Flash Fearless,
Dave Gahan,
Funkadelic,
Bronski Beat,
Deadbeat,
Fluxion,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Leaves,
Roger Hodgson,
Terry Callier,
Desert Stars,
Saccharine Trust,
Delta 5,
John Holt,
The Electric Prunes,
E-Dancer,
Colin Newman,
T.S.O.L.,
Monks,
Amon Düül II,
Charles Mingus,
Hashim,
Bang On A Can,
Ossler,
Pharoah Sanders,
Jeru the Damaja,
Sugar Minott,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Real Kids,
UT,
Iggy Pop,
The Fortunes,
Gastr Del Sol,
Moebius,
Public Image Ltd.,
Television Personalities,
Maurizio,
Hot Snakes,
The Smoke,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Evens,
Jandek,
Sister Nancy,
DNA,
Judy Mowatt,
Connie Case,
The Slits,
Henry Cow,
Jesper Dahlback,
Skaos,
Joey Negro,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Cal Tjader,
Ohio Players,
Sällskapet, Sällskapet, Sällskapet, Sällskapet.
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.