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 Sudan and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 theremin 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 Arab on Radar to the punk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Sight & Sound. All the underground hits.
All Magazine tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Martian 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Henry Cow,
Theoretical Girls,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
James White and The Blacks,
Carl Craig,
Laurel Aitken,
Deadbeat,
The Five Americans,
The Angels of Light,
Audionom,
Danielle Patucci,
Ituana,
The Index,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
K-Klass,
The Fugs,
Saccharine Trust,
Unrelated Segments,
Johnny Osbourne,
Gastr Del Sol,
Tres Demented,
Grauzone,
Television Personalities,
Franke,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
L. Decosne,
Fear,
Siglo XX,
Camberwell Now,
Cluster,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Ludus,
Gang Starr,
The Saints,
Traffic Nightmare,
Janne Schatter,
The American Breed,
F. McDonald,
Tropical Tobacco,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Alice Coltrane,
Pere Ubu,
The Skatalites,
Brand Nubian,
Chris Corsano,
Moebius,
Au Pairs,
Magazine,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Monks,
The Names,
Bobby Byrd,
Ten City,
New Age Steppers,
Chrome,
The Beau Brummels,
Judy Mowatt,
Scratch Acid, Scratch Acid, Scratch Acid, Scratch Acid.
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.