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 Philippines and from Milan.
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 1969 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Television Personalities to the jazz kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Outsiders. All the underground hits.
All Gerry Rafferty tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crispian St. Peters record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Slick Rick record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Sheep,
Cymande,
Jacques Brel,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Gastr Del Sol,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Smiths,
Soft Cell,
Mantronix,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
the Sonics,
Silicon Teens,
Kas Product,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Vainqueur,
The Fugs,
Terry Callier,
Rekid,
Scratch Acid,
Pylon,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Fatback Band,
Zero Boys,
Accadde A,
Average White Band,
Bobby Sherman,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Robert Hood,
ABBA,
Delta 5,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Misunderstood,
Goldenarms,
Dave Gahan,
Eddi Front,
Jerry's Kids,
Depeche Mode,
Scan 7,
Soft Machine,
Minutemen,
Brass Construction,
DNA,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Gang of Four,
Little Man,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Livin' Joy,
Pantaleimon,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Slackers,
Crooked Eye,
Warren Ellis,
Joe Finger,
Susan Cadogan,
The Black Dice,
Nirvana,
Alice Coltrane,
Sixth Finger,
Q65,
Talk Talk, Talk Talk, Talk Talk, Talk Talk.
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.