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 Sudan and from Halifax.
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 1962 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Bill Wells to the disco 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 Make Up. All the underground hits.
All World's Most tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Japan record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Angels of Light,
Jerry's Kids,
Fifty Foot Hose,
New York Dolls,
The Names,
Warren Ellis,
Intrusion,
Robert Wyatt,
The Toasters,
Surgeon,
Pharoah Sanders,
Alison Limerick,
Gerry Rafferty,
E-Dancer,
Minnie Riperton,
The Knickerbockers,
R.M.O.,
Yusef Lateef,
Khruangbin,
Crispy Ambulance,
Symarip,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Sexual Harrassment,
Marcia Griffiths,
Cluster,
Bad Manners,
Aural Exciters,
Lower 48,
Eden Ahbez,
Pet Shop Boys,
Outsiders,
Mark Hollis,
Lindisfarne,
Terry Callier,
The Doors,
Porter Ricks,
Hot Snakes,
Minor Threat,
The Wake,
Gastr Del Sol,
Josef K,
Ice-T,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Kaleidoscope,
London Community Gospel Choir,
the Human League,
Pulsallama,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Fad Gadget,
the Germs,
Curtis Mayfield,
Lalann,
Gang of Four,
Byron Stingily,
Franke,
Derrick Morgan,
Yazoo,
John Foxx, John Foxx, John Foxx, John Foxx.
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.