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 Paraguay and from Lille.
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 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 clarinet 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 Gang Gang Dance to the disco kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Kings Of Tomorrow. All the underground hits.
All Boredoms tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lower 48 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 theremin and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Blancmange record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Offenders,
Ultravox,
Can,
Stereo Dub,
Organ,
Barry Ungar,
Scion,
John Lydon,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Standells,
Tim Buckley,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Smoke,
Rapeman,
Mission of Burma,
The Toasters,
Barrington Levy,
Funkadelic,
New Order,
Carl Craig,
Joe Finger,
The Slits,
R.M.O.,
Sly & The Family Stone,
the Germs,
The Grass Roots,
Black Pus,
Erasure,
Intrusion,
Ten City,
The New Christs,
The Beau Brummels,
The Tremeloes,
The Golliwogs,
X-102,
Dark Day,
Ultra Naté,
Traffic Nightmare,
Mark Hollis,
Surgeon,
Aloha Tigers,
Thompson Twins,
Tomorrow,
Minny Pops,
The Vogues,
the Soft Cell,
Adolescents,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Wings,
The Cure,
The Young Rascals,
The Kinks,
Dennis Brown,
Alice Coltrane,
Chrome,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Easy Going,
Piero Umiliani, Piero Umiliani, Piero Umiliani, Piero Umiliani.
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.