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 Slovakia and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise 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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Paris.
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 marimba 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 Jerry Gold Smith to the jazz 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 Siglo XX. All the underground hits.
All Brothers Johnson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rakim 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Iggy Pop record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mission of Burma,
Sonny Sharrock,
Patti Smith,
Eurythmics,
Aswad,
Sixth Finger,
The Music Machine,
Jeff Lynne,
June Days,
Malaria!,
Royal Trux,
Nirvana,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Infiniti,
The Trojans,
EPMD,
Eve St. Jones,
U.S. Maple,
Agitation Free,
X-Ray Spex,
The Gories,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Pylon,
Neu!,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Amazonics,
Skaos,
The Angels of Light,
Ronan,
The Fire Engines,
Wings,
Average White Band,
The Litter,
DJ Sneak,
Johnny Clarke,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
David McCallum,
Dennis Brown,
Underground Resistance,
John Lydon,
Babytalk,
Spandau Ballet,
Blossom Toes,
Cal Tjader,
Index,
Delon & Dalcan,
the Bar-Kays,
Carl Craig,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Lou Christie,
Section 25,
World's Most,
X-102,
Loose Ends,
Talk Talk,
Joensuu 1685,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Derrick May,
Moebius, Moebius, Moebius, Moebius.
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.