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 Kuwait and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 clarinet 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 Monks to the electroclash 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 Beasts of Bourbon. All the underground hits.
All Lafayette Afro Rock Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fad Gadget record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Terrestrial Tones record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Technova,
The Litter,
Ohio Players,
One Last Wish,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
James White and The Blacks,
The Neon Judgement,
Eddi Front,
Echospace,
Maurizio,
Hoover,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Lou Christie,
Jandek,
The Techniques,
Scion,
Gang Gang Dance,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Desert Stars,
Infiniti,
Outsiders,
Rites of Spring,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Index,
Magazine,
Pole,
Erykah Badu,
Sugar Minott,
Scan 7,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
10cc,
The Velvet Underground,
The Tremeloes,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Black Sheep,
OOIOO,
Main Source,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Piero Umiliani,
Mars,
Kevin Saunderson,
June of 44,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Reagan Youth,
The Standells,
Amazonics,
Nirvana,
Wally Richardson,
Young Marble Giants,
Steve Hackett,
Oneida,
Cal Tjader,
Cybotron,
Lucky Dragons,
World's Most,
Kenny Larkin,
Pierre Henry,
Basic Channel,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Peter and Kerry,
Pharoah Sanders,
Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols.
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.