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 Benin and from Stockholm.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Woodstock.
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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Massinfluence 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 Be Bop Deluxe. All the underground hits.
All Sixth Finger tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Fania All-Stars 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a David Bowie record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sun City Girls,
Wasted Youth,
Quando Quango,
The Detroit Cobras,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Moebius,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Trumans Water,
The Cramps,
Ituana,
The Birthday Party,
Lou Reed,
Rhythm & Sound,
Man Parrish,
Ossler,
Boogie Down Productions,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Trojans,
Warren Ellis,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Bill Wells,
Iggy Pop,
Gang Starr,
Ronnie Foster,
Icehouse,
Cluster,
New York Dolls,
The Blues Magoos,
Terry Callier,
Sound Behaviour,
The Martian,
AZ,
Jacques Brel,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Crooked Eye,
Ralphi Rosario,
Gastr Del Sol,
These Immortal Souls,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Scratch Acid,
Prince Buster,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Sexual Harrassment,
Suburban Knight,
Judy Mowatt,
Byron Stingily,
Crispy Ambulance,
Talk Talk,
Main Source,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Dark Day,
Barclay James Harvest,
Lucky Dragons,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Grauzone,
Rakim,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Todd Terry,
The Neon Judgement, The Neon Judgement, The Neon Judgement, The Neon Judgement.
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.