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 Seychelles and from Lagos.
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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 Captain Beefheart 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 The Associates 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 Radio Birdman. All the underground hits.
All Kango’s Stein Massive tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Terrestrial Tones record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Doors record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Todd Rundgren,
Bang On A Can,
Parry Music,
Echospace,
Excepter,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Sonny Sharrock,
DNA,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Colin Newman,
Television Personalities,
June Days,
Erasure,
Spoonie Gee,
Groovy Waters,
Sun Ra,
Robert Görl,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Bush Tetras,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Chris & Cosey,
Newcleus,
Avey Tare,
Surgeon,
U.S. Maple,
Minnie Riperton,
Spandau Ballet,
Minutemen,
X-102,
Donald Byrd,
Angry Samoans,
Electric Prunes,
Slick Rick,
Bobby Sherman,
Eddi Front,
The Slits,
Desert Stars,
Judy Mowatt,
The Selecter,
Lightning Bolt,
Tomorrow,
Throbbing Gristle,
Loose Ends,
Grandmaster Flash,
Television,
Sight & Sound,
Alison Limerick,
Sam Rivers,
The Wake,
Lalo Schifrin,
E-Dancer,
Fugazi,
the Germs,
Jandek,
Stetsasonic,
The Gories,
Sandy B,
The Blues Magoos,
Scientists, Scientists, Scientists, Scientists.
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.