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 Netherlands and from Salvador.
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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the marimba 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 Minny Pops to the funk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Supertramp. All the underground hits.
All Jacob Miller tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kerri Chandler record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Deakin record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Grass Roots,
Delta 5,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Desert Stars,
The Residents,
Dave Gahan,
Can,
The Monks,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Offenders,
Siglo XX,
Ken Boothe,
Chris Corsano,
the Soft Cell,
Byron Stingily,
Fad Gadget,
JFA,
Television Personalities,
Shuggie Otis,
Man Parrish,
Section 25,
Brass Construction,
Moebius,
ABC,
Warsaw,
Amazonics,
Throbbing Gristle,
U.S. Maple,
Roy Ayers,
Rhythm & Sound,
The Durutti Column,
Wolf Eyes,
Minny Pops,
Eddi Front,
Sexual Harrassment,
Glenn Branca,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Funky Four + One,
The Techniques,
Kerrie Biddell,
Mark Hollis,
Reuben Wilson,
Darondo,
Eve St. Jones,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Ultra Naté,
Smog,
Grey Daturas,
The Dirtbombs,
Accadde A,
Stetsasonic,
Bush Tetras,
The Gladiators,
B.T. Express,
Mission of Burma,
Minor Threat,
The Real Kids,
Jimmy McGriff,
Buzzcocks,
Kaleidoscope,
Swans,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk, Rahsaan Roland Kirk, Rahsaan Roland Kirk, Rahsaan Roland Kirk.
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.