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 Zambia and from Jakarta.
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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Heaven 17 to the grunge 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 The Tremeloes. All the underground hits.
All Ultra Naté tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scott Walker record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 synthesizer and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fat Boys record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Index,
Black Bananas,
Soul II Soul,
Electric Prunes,
Rotary Connection,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Simply Red,
X-101,
the Swans,
The Smiths,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Alphaville,
Sällskapet,
The Slackers,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Von Mondo,
The Standells,
Black Sheep,
Nik Kershaw,
The Electric Prunes,
John Foxx,
The Martian,
Arcadia,
Scrapy,
The Cowsills,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Kas Product,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Radiopuhelimet,
Donald Byrd,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Eric Copeland,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Lalo Schifrin,
Maleditus Sound,
The Litter,
Little Man,
Unrelated Segments,
Crispy Ambulance,
Blancmange,
Barrington Levy,
Glambeats Corp.,
Goldenarms,
Faraquet,
New York Dolls,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Guru Guru,
New Age Steppers,
D'Angelo,
Half Japanese,
China Crisis,
Maurizio,
Robert Görl,
Main Source,
Adolescents,
Wasted Youth,
La Düsseldorf,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Gories,
Infiniti,
The Misunderstood,
Intrusion, Intrusion, Intrusion, Intrusion.
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.