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 Kiribati and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 Glasgow and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band to the punk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Bluetip. All the underground hits.
All Gastr Del Sol tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Beau Brummels record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 harpsichord and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lou Reed & Metallica record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Porter Ricks,
Masters at Work,
kango's stein massive,
Josef K,
Albert Ayler,
Eli Mardock,
Mandrill,
The Raincoats,
The Dead C,
Bill Near,
Fad Gadget,
Mark Hollis,
The Moleskins,
CMW,
The Doors,
Jeff Mills,
Mary Jane Girls,
Underground Resistance,
Skarface,
Heaven 17,
Oneida,
Minutemen,
T. Rex,
Pagans,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Offenders,
Malaria!,
Nas,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Can,
Steve Hackett,
Skaos,
Cameo,
Junior Murvin,
The Birthday Party,
Juan Atkins,
The Walker Brothers,
48th St. Collective,
Bobby Sherman,
Japan,
Johnny Osbourne,
Panda Bear,
Infiniti,
Pole,
The Golliwogs,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Seeds,
The Mighty Diamonds,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Flesh Eaters,
Morten Harket,
Mantronix,
Black Moon,
Rod Modell,
Quantec,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Matthew Halsall,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Real Kids,
Girls At Our Best!,
Aaron Thompson,
Make Up,
Faust, Faust, Faust, Faust.
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.