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 Senegal and from Delhi.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 synthesizer 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 Barry Ungar to the grunge 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 Arcadia. All the underground hits.
All Faraquet tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Excepter,
A Certain Ratio,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Faust,
Lalo Schifrin,
Unrelated Segments,
48th St. Collective,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Motions,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Grey Daturas,
Ronan,
Eurythmics,
Pet Shop Boys,
Jesper Dahlback,
Gabor Szabo,
Dead Boys,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Khruangbin,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Easy Going,
The Young Rascals,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Sugar Minott,
Panda Bear,
Lou Reed,
Scott Walker,
Pantaleimon,
Gerry Rafferty,
Outsiders,
Main Source,
Robert Görl,
Bobby Sherman,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Josef K,
Mark Hollis,
Spandau Ballet,
Fort Wilson Riot,
This Heat,
Wally Richardson,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Pantytec,
Skriet,
Accadde A,
The Gladiators,
the Swans,
Donald Byrd,
Andrew Hill,
Chris & Cosey,
Kerrie Biddell,
Japan,
Crispy Ambulance,
Crash Course in Science,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Kool Moe Dee,
kango's stein massive,
Girls At Our Best!,
Pagans,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Detroit Cobras,
Arab on Radar,
Yusef Lateef,
Rapeman, Rapeman, Rapeman, Rapeman.
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.