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 San Marino and from Stockholm.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Brass Construction to the dance 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 A Flock of Seagulls. All the underground hits.
All Albert Ayler tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every T. Rex record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Altered Images record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rosa Yemen,
The Blues Magoos,
Drexciya,
Minnie Riperton,
Dawn Penn,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Supertramp,
Con Funk Shun,
Scan 7,
Massinfluence,
Tom Boy,
Eurythmics,
Reagan Youth,
Leonard Cohen,
Oneida,
Prince Buster,
Motorama,
Judy Mowatt,
Depeche Mode,
Maleditus Sound,
Erasure,
The Walker Brothers,
Morten Harket,
The Index,
Flipper,
The Cure,
Gerry Rafferty,
Second Layer,
The Cramps,
The Invisible,
Whodini,
Scion,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Make Up,
LL Cool J,
Anakelly,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Alison Limerick,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Vogues,
Ornette Coleman,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Kinks,
Andrew Hill,
Fela Kuti,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Moleskins,
Patti Smith,
The United States of America,
the Association,
Franke,
Sällskapet,
Eve St. Jones,
Harry Pussy,
Tres Demented,
Gang of Four,
Boz Scaggs,
Brothers Johnson,
Dave Gahan,
The Litter,
Cluster, Cluster, Cluster, Cluster.
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.