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 Mauritius and from Houston.
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 1963 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 harpsichord 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 Gang Gang Dance to the grunge 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 Liliput. All the underground hits.
All T.S.O.L. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cymande record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Man Parrish record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Glambeats Corp.,
Fela Kuti,
The Fugs,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Ice-T,
Robert Wyatt,
Sugar Minott,
Howard Jones,
Kevin Saunderson,
Johnny Clarke,
Gerry Rafferty,
Isaac Hayes,
The Monochrome Set,
Technova,
Charles Mingus,
Lower 48,
Gastr Del Sol,
Mars,
The Music Machine,
Theoretical Girls,
Simply Red,
Alton Ellis,
Iggy Pop,
Kayak,
Sarah Menescal,
Clear Light,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Neil Young,
Severed Heads,
Intrusion,
The Cramps,
Laurel Aitken,
Rufus Thomas,
Tomorrow,
Magma,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Japan,
The Last Poets,
Drexciya,
Joe Smooth,
The Victims,
The Young Rascals,
The Knickerbockers,
Circle Jerks,
Wasted Youth,
Eli Mardock,
The Saints,
The New Christs,
Bootsy Collins,
Black Bananas,
The Moleskins,
Mo-Dettes,
X-Ray Spex,
Delon & Dalcan,
the Swans,
Accadde A,
Pylon,
Jacob Miller,
Reuben Wilson,
the Sonics,
Television Personalities,
Stetsasonic, Stetsasonic, Stetsasonic, Stetsasonic.
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.