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 Gabon and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Drexciya to the crunk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Lyres. All the underground hits.
All Bill Wells tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Janne Schatter record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Martian record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Trumans Water,
Public Enemy,
Massinfluence,
China Crisis,
Au Pairs,
Ten City,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
June Days,
The Happenings,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
DNA,
Kerrie Biddell,
Mad Mike,
The Searchers,
June of 44,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
the Fania All-Stars,
Alphaville,
New York Dolls,
Pantytec,
Marc Almond,
Johnny Clarke,
Khruangbin,
Lucky Dragons,
New Order,
U.S. Maple,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Bobby Womack,
Colin Newman,
Second Layer,
The Associates,
The Sound,
The Stooges,
Arab on Radar,
Dorothy Ashby,
Wally Richardson,
Gastr Del Sol,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Robert Hood,
Nas,
The Leaves,
Chris & Cosey,
Accadde A,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Minutemen,
Maleditus Sound,
Angry Samoans,
Minnie Riperton,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Blues Magoos,
Gregory Isaacs,
Simply Red,
Sight & Sound,
The Modern Lovers,
The Music Machine,
Matthew Halsall,
Shuggie Otis,
Electric Prunes,
Liliput,
Idris Muhammad,
Sound Behaviour,
Subhumans,
The Move, The Move, The Move, The Move.
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.