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 Vanuatu and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 harpsichord 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 Soft Cell to the rock 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 Blake Baxter. All the underground hits.
All Scott Walker + Sunn O))) tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Byrd 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Leaves,
Tim Buckley,
Charles Mingus,
Country Joe & The Fish,
the Human League,
The Music Machine,
Alice Coltrane,
Graham Central Station,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Das Ding,
ABBA,
Supertramp,
The Modern Lovers,
Bluetip,
Brand Nubian,
Grauzone,
Unwound,
Khruangbin,
The Monochrome Set,
Marcia Griffiths,
Lucky Dragons,
Monks,
Blossom Toes,
The Fuzztones,
Camberwell Now,
EPMD,
Kenny Larkin,
Todd Terry,
Excepter,
Urselle,
Brass Construction,
Vladislav Delay,
DJ Style,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Suicide,
Max Romeo,
the Soft Cell,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Little Man,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
the Association,
Avey Tare,
Young Marble Giants,
Faraquet,
Erasure,
Rufus Thomas,
Alison Limerick,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Pylon,
The J.B.'s,
Royal Trux,
Echospace,
Angry Samoans,
David McCallum,
Desert Stars,
Make Up,
Barrington Levy,
Saccharine Trust,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Loose Ends,
Pagans,
Dorothy Ashby, Dorothy Ashby, Dorothy Ashby, Dorothy Ashby.
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.