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 Sweden and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1962 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Columbus.
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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Donny Hathaway to the grunge 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 Letta Mbulu. All the underground hits.
All Scratch Acid tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sonny Sharrock 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 808 and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Heaven 17 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Busters,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Colin Newman,
Hot Snakes,
The Flesh Eaters,
Black Moon,
Public Enemy,
Ultra Naté,
Swell Maps,
Duran Duran,
Smog,
Altered Images,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Frankie Knuckles,
48th St. Collective,
Roxette,
Angry Samoans,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Index,
Black Sheep,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Marshall Jefferson,
Rites of Spring,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Rakim,
The Neon Judgement,
Infiniti,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Mantronix,
Stockholm Monsters,
Model 500,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Flipper,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Ultimate Spinach,
kango's stein massive,
Fat Boys,
Arcadia,
Lungfish,
Joy Division,
Oblivians,
Easy Going,
The Standells,
John Foxx,
New Age Steppers,
Scott Walker,
Eyeless In Gaza,
KRS-One,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Essential Logic,
Silicon Teens,
Godley & Creme,
London Community Gospel Choir,
the Sonics,
Ken Boothe,
Michelle Simonal,
Eric B and Rakim,
cv313,
Porter Ricks,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Erasure, Erasure, Erasure, Erasure.
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.