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 Ghana and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise 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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Mexico City.
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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Donald Byrd to the crunk 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 Cluster. All the underground hits.
All The Star Department tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every London Community Gospel Choir record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 an arpeggiator and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fear record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Robert Wyatt,
Delta 5,
The Alarm Clocks,
Mr. Review,
Vainqueur,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
JFA,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Youth Brigade,
The Fire Engines,
F. McDonald,
Half Japanese,
La Düsseldorf,
Silicon Teens,
Radio Birdman,
Gang of Four,
Nico,
The Pretty Things,
Eli Mardock,
Banda Bassotti,
David Axelrod,
Motorama,
The Tremeloes,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Cowsills,
Marmalade,
The Music Machine,
Little Man,
Reuben Wilson,
B.T. Express,
Wasted Youth,
The Barracudas,
8 Eyed Spy,
Gang Green,
Talk Talk,
Lower 48,
Black Sheep,
Jacques Brel,
the Association,
Black Bananas,
Zapp,
Joensuu 1685,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Ossler,
Flamin' Groovies,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Scott Walker,
The Remains,
Carl Craig,
The Neon Judgement,
Los Fastidios,
One Last Wish,
Alison Limerick,
Johnny Clarke,
John Lydon,
Japan,
Goldenarms,
Andrew Hill, Andrew Hill, Andrew Hill, Andrew Hill.
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.