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 Barbados and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Theoretical Girls to the dance kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 The Doobie Brothers. All the underground hits.
All Terry Callier tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every These Immortal Souls record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 an arpeggiator and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rosa Yemen record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lindisfarne,
Eric Dolphy,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Wolf Eyes,
Franke,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Jeff Lynne,
Aaron Thompson,
Pole,
Arab on Radar,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Tom Boy,
Johnny Clarke,
Brass Construction,
Bobby Sherman,
ABC,
Public Enemy,
Ronnie Foster,
Hasil Adkins,
Ken Boothe,
Henry Cow,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Interpol,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Victims,
Make Up,
The Evens,
Jimmy McGriff,
Black Moon,
Deadbeat,
Crispy Ambulance,
Magazine,
Joyce Sims,
John Foxx,
Section 25,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Shadows of Knight,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Public Image Ltd.,
Suicide,
the Soft Cell,
Alice Coltrane,
Bizarre Inc.,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Thee Headcoats,
The Dave Clark Five,
8 Eyed Spy,
Gregory Isaacs,
Man Parrish,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Nik Kershaw,
The Saints,
Stetsasonic,
The American Breed,
Bluetip,
Unwound,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Swans,
Von Mondo,
Howard Jones,
The Gladiators, The Gladiators, The Gladiators, The Gladiators.
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.