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 Belize and from Philadelphia.
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 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 The Fall to the rap kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Lucky Dragons. All the underground hits.
All Zapp tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jesper Dahlback record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scratch Acid,
Gil Scott Heron,
Moebius,
Crispian St. Peters,
Sister Nancy,
The Kinks,
James White and The Blacks,
Lou Christie,
Joe Smooth,
Rufus Thomas,
The Offenders,
Rekid,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Saints,
Skriet,
T. Rex,
Ronnie Foster,
Lyres,
Sun Ra,
Glenn Branca,
These Immortal Souls,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
48th St. Collective,
Fatback Band,
Magazine,
Chris & Cosey,
Siglo XX,
Minor Threat,
Alison Limerick,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Donny Hathaway,
The New Christs,
The Gap Band,
Sun City Girls,
Guru Guru,
Dead Boys,
Iggy Pop,
Avey Tare,
New Age Steppers,
Audionom,
Rites of Spring,
Ornette Coleman,
Peter & Gordon,
Dark Day,
Model 500,
Sugar Minott,
John Lydon,
Easy Going,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Rakim,
Marvin Gaye,
Cheater Slicks,
Second Layer,
Reagan Youth,
Grandmaster Flash,
ABC,
The Durutti Column,
Harmonia, Harmonia, Harmonia, Harmonia.
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.