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 Rwanda and from Lagos.
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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 The Peanut Butter Conspiracy to the funk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Fatback Band. All the underground hits.
All Lyres tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Max Romeo record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a ABBA record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Spandau Ballet,
Sex Pistols,
Kayak,
The Count Five,
The Wake,
Iggy Pop,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
48th St. Collective,
The Busters,
The Real Kids,
Echospace,
The Martian,
Joe Smooth,
The Offenders,
Moss Icon,
Eric Dolphy,
Qualms,
Q and Not U,
David Axelrod,
The Trojans,
Slick Rick,
the Association,
Michelle Simonal,
Flamin' Groovies,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Lower 48,
Pet Shop Boys,
Goldenarms,
Television,
Vainqueur,
Siglo XX,
Soft Machine,
The J.B.'s,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Cluster,
Sight & Sound,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
the Human League,
Ultra Naté,
Alice Coltrane,
The Smoke,
Crispy Ambulance,
Crash Course in Science,
Yaz,
Crispian St. Peters,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Eurythmics,
Brothers Johnson,
Barry Ungar,
Joyce Sims,
Soulsonic Force,
The American Breed,
Bauhaus,
The Young Rascals,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Lou Christie,
Sister Nancy,
The Kinks,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Hasil Adkins,
Lebanon Hanover,
Dave Gahan, Dave Gahan, Dave Gahan, Dave Gahan.
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.