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 Turkmenistan and from Seoul.
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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in 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 Vaughan Mason & Crew to the electroclash 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 Swans. All the underground hits.
All Rosa Yemen tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bush Tetras record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Jesus and Mary Chain record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eve St. Jones,
New Order,
The Move,
Gang of Four,
The American Breed,
Cluster,
Nik Kershaw,
The Victims,
Section 25,
Crispian St. Peters,
Gang Starr,
the Soft Cell,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Johnny Osbourne,
Roxette,
Arthur Verocai,
Drive Like Jehu,
Fat Boys,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Busters,
The Knickerbockers,
The Stooges,
Robert Hood,
Heaven 17,
The Black Dice,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Nils Olav,
The Doors,
David Axelrod,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Pussy Galore,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Erykah Badu,
Symarip,
Suburban Knight,
Popol Vuh,
ABBA,
Tommy Roe,
Massinfluence,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Leonard Cohen,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Tres Demented,
The Toasters,
Terry Callier,
Skriet,
Wolf Eyes,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Severed Heads,
Gichy Dan,
Dead Boys,
Loose Ends,
Oneida,
Tubeway Army,
Barry Ungar,
Agent Orange,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
James White and The Blacks,
Liliput,
The Alarm Clocks, The Alarm Clocks, The Alarm Clocks, The Alarm Clocks.
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.