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 South Sudan and from Johannesburg.
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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the snare 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 The Wake to the punk 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 Alton Ellis. All the underground hits.
All Simply Red tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The American Breed 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Alarm Clocks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Graham Central Station,
The Sound,
Yellowson,
Bizarre Inc.,
X-Ray Spex,
X-101,
Index,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Tears for Fears,
Joe Smooth,
Shoche,
Lightning Bolt,
The Busters,
FM Einheit,
Donny Hathaway,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Fall,
Clear Light,
Skarface,
OOIOO,
World's Most,
Boz Scaggs,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Jesper Dahlback,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Jacques Brel,
Marine Girls,
Silicon Teens,
Slick Rick,
The Saints,
Throbbing Gristle,
Man Parrish,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Jimmy McGriff,
Jacob Miller,
Godley & Creme,
Funky Four + One,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Tubeway Army,
Bronski Beat,
Matthew Halsall,
Drexciya,
Marcia Griffiths,
Ultra Naté,
In Retrospect,
The Doors,
Can,
Anakelly,
Spoonie Gee,
Surgeon,
Depeche Mode,
The Trojans,
Black Flag,
The Skatalites,
the Swans,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Arthur Verocai,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Moebius,
Rhythim Is Rhythim, Rhythim Is Rhythim, Rhythim Is Rhythim, Rhythim Is Rhythim.
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.