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 Papua New Guinea and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 John Lydon to the techno 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 Lyres. All the underground hits.
All Scion tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Joyce Sims record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kurtis Blow record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ituana,
John Foxx,
Wire,
Amazonics,
Blancmange,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Slits,
Robert Wyatt,
The Gladiators,
Shoche,
Agent Orange,
The Fugs,
The Walker Brothers,
Glenn Branca,
A Certain Ratio,
Qualms,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Radiohead,
Iggy Pop,
Dark Day,
Althea and Donna,
The J.B.'s,
Tom Boy,
Desert Stars,
Delta 5,
Grey Daturas,
Malaria!,
The Busters,
Franke,
Ludus,
World's Most,
The Leaves,
New York Dolls,
Altered Images,
Section 25,
Michelle Simonal,
Average White Band,
Ornette Coleman,
Bush Tetras,
The Pretty Things,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Wake,
Don Cherry,
The Dirtbombs,
The Evens,
The Red Krayola,
Charles Mingus,
The Angels of Light,
the Fania All-Stars,
Funkadelic,
Nils Olav,
Mark Hollis,
Susan Cadogan,
Ice-T,
Suicide,
Trumans Water,
Pussy Galore,
Bronski Beat,
Gil Scott Heron,
Chris Corsano,
Technova,
Cameo, Cameo, Cameo, Cameo.
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.