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 Indonesia and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Carl Craig to the grime kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Cybotron. All the underground hits.
All The Names tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Red Lorry Yellow Lorry record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Public Image Ltd. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Yazoo,
Deakin,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Johnny Osbourne,
Nirvana,
Swell Maps,
Hoover,
Aural Exciters,
Robert Hood,
Marvin Gaye,
Mr. Review,
The Fire Engines,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Man Parrish,
Quadrant,
Cheater Slicks,
Loose Ends,
Quando Quango,
The Gun Club,
Joe Smooth,
Barry Ungar,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Delta 5,
8 Eyed Spy,
Barbara Tucker,
Lalann,
Youth Brigade,
The Divine Comedy,
Country Teasers,
Bush Tetras,
Black Pus,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Toni Rubio,
Juan Atkins,
Barclay James Harvest,
Malaria!,
Accadde A,
Bauhaus,
Monks,
Harmonia,
Brand Nubian,
Urselle,
Ponytail,
Maurizio,
Eve St. Jones,
Soul II Soul,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Darondo,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Alton Ellis,
Quantec,
Rufus Thomas,
Banda Bassotti,
The Real Kids,
Isaac Hayes,
Howard Jones,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Duran Duran,
The Index,
Mandrill,
The Motions,
Sun City Girls,
Interpol, Interpol, Interpol, Interpol.
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.