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 Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Clear Light to the rock kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Bang on a Can All-Stars. All the underground hits.
All Peter and Kerry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every James White and The Blacks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Frankie Knuckles record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Flesh Eaters,
The Fugs,
Bobby Byrd,
Sam Rivers,
Jeff Mills,
Wally Richardson,
The Fuzztones,
the Human League,
Average White Band,
Gerry Rafferty,
Country Teasers,
Von Mondo,
Talk Talk,
The Dead C,
The American Breed,
The Shadows of Knight,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
X-Ray Spex,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Selecter,
Arab on Radar,
DNA,
Barry Ungar,
One Last Wish,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Nation of Ulysses,
Rakim,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Black Flag,
Matthew Halsall,
Ken Boothe,
Aswad,
Boredoms,
the Association,
Agitation Free,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Soft Cell,
Bobby Sherman,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Crispian St. Peters,
Spandau Ballet,
Gang Green,
Parry Music,
Zapp,
Clear Light,
Little Man,
Bobby Womack,
Pantaleimon,
June Days,
Jeru the Damaja,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
June of 44,
Kerri Chandler,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Mr. Review,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Eric Copeland,
Minor Threat,
Model 500,
The Pretty Things,
Half Japanese,
The Velvet Underground,
Kurtis Blow, Kurtis Blow, Kurtis Blow, Kurtis Blow.
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.