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 Samoa and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1965 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Peter and Kerry to the rap kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 The Last Poets. All the underground hits.
All The Selecter tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every T. Rex record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Robert Wyatt record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Duran Duran,
The Count Five,
Faraquet,
Oneida,
Zapp,
Alison Limerick,
PIL,
The Star Department,
Icehouse,
Jeru the Damaja,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Glambeats Corp.,
Supertramp,
The Moody Blues,
Nils Olav,
48th St. Collective,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Ken Boothe,
Rites of Spring,
Japan,
Al Stewart,
Trumans Water,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Funkadelic,
Basic Channel,
Lakeside,
Wire,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Human League,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Los Fastidios,
The Real Kids,
The Durutti Column,
Model 500,
Dark Day,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The J.B.'s,
Fatback Band,
Lebanon Hanover,
Mr. Review,
Grauzone,
Negative Approach,
Jandek,
L. Decosne,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Gun Club,
Deakin,
Section 25,
Gastr Del Sol,
Vainqueur,
Circle Jerks,
Freddie Wadling,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Harpers Bizarre,
Malaria!,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Sun City Girls,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Offenders,
Make Up,
Cameo, Cameo, Cameo, Cameo.
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.