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 Mozambique and from Copenhagen.
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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Moebius to the crunk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Bad Manners. All the underground hits.
All Motorama tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pantytec record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 808 and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Barry Ungar record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Kinks,
Bronski Beat,
Slick Rick,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Dave Clark Five,
Bauhaus,
Don Cherry,
Quadrant,
Model 500,
Pylon,
The Smoke,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Crime,
The Martian,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
A Certain Ratio,
D'Angelo,
Eurythmics,
Pere Ubu,
Kayak,
Harry Pussy,
The Busters,
New Age Steppers,
The Gun Club,
Depeche Mode,
Ten City,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Liliput,
Flipper,
Byron Stingily,
B.T. Express,
Gregory Isaacs,
Eden Ahbez,
Radiohead,
H. Thieme,
KRS-One,
Moby Grape,
Visage,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Soul Sonic Force,
Lucky Dragons,
Arcadia,
Kevin Saunderson,
The New Christs,
Malaria!,
Can,
Cluster,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Zeros,
The Raincoats,
Bobby Sherman,
Brass Construction,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Gories,
Grauzone,
The Birthday Party,
Erasure, Erasure, Erasure, Erasure.
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.