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 India and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 oboe 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 X-102 to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band. All the underground hits.
All Black Moon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bush Tetras record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Velvet Underground record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Letta Mbulu,
Piero Umiliani,
The Vogues,
UT,
Mary Jane Girls,
Hoover,
Animal Collective,
Kayak,
Ituana,
8 Eyed Spy,
Sam Rivers,
The Beau Brummels,
The Star Department,
Jacob Miller,
Ronnie Foster,
CMW,
The Red Krayola,
Siglo XX,
Donald Byrd,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Unrelated Segments,
Das Ding,
The Raincoats,
Radio Birdman,
the Fania All-Stars,
Graham Central Station,
Maurizio,
John Holt,
Blossom Toes,
Agent Orange,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Soulsonic Force,
Pierre Henry,
Joe Finger,
Mark Hollis,
Black Sheep,
Dead Boys,
Roxette,
The Motions,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Andrew Hill,
The Gladiators,
Sun City Girls,
Junior Murvin,
Scientists,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Lightning Bolt,
Magazine,
John Foxx,
Severed Heads,
The Searchers,
Frankie Knuckles,
Talk Talk,
Vladislav Delay,
The Doobie Brothers,
Joe Smooth,
Black Flag,
Yazoo,
Thompson Twins,
The Associates,
Curtis Mayfield,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Black Bananas, Black Bananas, Black Bananas, Black Bananas.
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.