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 Romania and from Beijing.
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 1969 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 Michael McDonald 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 Bobby Hutcherson to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 New Order. All the underground hits.
All Slave tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Angels of Light & Akron/Family 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 an arpeggiator and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gian Franco Pienzio record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Aaron Thompson,
Yusef Lateef,
Chris & Cosey,
Thee Headcoats,
Fad Gadget,
Lou Christie,
AZ,
The Offenders,
Althea and Donna,
One Last Wish,
Eden Ahbez,
The Searchers,
David McCallum,
Scratch Acid,
Gichy Dan,
Man Parrish,
Warsaw,
Crime,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Todd Terry,
Mark Hollis,
Lee Hazlewood,
Tomorrow,
Tropical Tobacco,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Bill Wells,
MDC,
The Tremeloes,
The Black Dice,
The Fire Engines,
Warren Ellis,
Agitation Free,
Kool Moe Dee,
Babytalk,
John Lydon,
Roxy Music,
Gerry Rafferty,
In Retrospect,
Wings,
The Barracudas,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Talk Talk,
This Heat,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Swell Maps,
The Smoke,
Letta Mbulu,
Minnie Riperton,
The Names,
The Happenings,
Nico,
Isaac Hayes,
Barclay James Harvest,
John Cale,
Qualms,
Bob Dylan,
Toni Rubio,
The Monks,
Lungfish,
Kerri Chandler,
Main Source,
The Flesh Eaters,
Terry Callier, Terry Callier, Terry Callier, Terry Callier.
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.