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 Cambodia and from Beijing.
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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 B.T. Express to the rap kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Tears for Fears. All the underground hits.
All Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Loose Ends record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 an oboe and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Robert Hood record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
This Heat,
Supertramp,
Aloha Tigers,
Second Layer,
L. Decosne,
Ultravox,
Amazonics,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Mad Mike,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Piero Umiliani,
Brass Construction,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Minutemen,
Amon Düül,
Fela Kuti,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Scan 7,
Davy DMX,
Model 500,
Donny Hathaway,
Tres Demented,
Dawn Penn,
Soulsonic Force,
Dennis Brown,
The Cowsills,
Joensuu 1685,
The Index,
Magazine,
Vladislav Delay,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Mandrill,
Isaac Hayes,
ABC,
Maleditus Sound,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Dark Day,
Skarface,
Bill Near,
Delta 5,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Ohio Players,
Severed Heads,
Hardrive,
The Fugs,
Bronski Beat,
the Fania All-Stars,
Nation of Ulysses,
Tom Boy,
Mark Hollis,
Janne Schatter,
Depeche Mode,
Mary Jane Girls,
Excepter,
The Cosmic Jokers,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Saints,
Aaron Thompson,
Crispian St. Peters, Crispian St. Peters, Crispian St. Peters, Crispian St. Peters.
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.