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 Tonga and from Salvador.
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 1964 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Blancmange to the disco kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 B.T. Express. All the underground hits.
All The Invisible tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Buckinghams record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Barbara Tucker record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Junior Murvin,
Todd Rundgren,
ABC,
Bang On A Can,
Warren Ellis,
Jeff Lynne,
Crime,
Goldenarms,
Newcleus,
JFA,
Whodini,
The Golliwogs,
Hashim,
Accadde A,
Camberwell Now,
The Happenings,
Brothers Johnson,
Mark Hollis,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Marc Almond,
Drexciya,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Harpers Bizarre,
John Coltrane,
The New Christs,
The Tremeloes,
Eli Mardock,
Pierre Henry,
Joensuu 1685,
Alison Limerick,
Colin Newman,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Wasted Youth,
The Vogues,
Ultra Naté,
Sight & Sound,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Glenn Branca,
Janne Schatter,
Rapeman,
The Martian,
Joy Division,
Archie Shepp,
Girls At Our Best!,
Gong,
Albert Ayler,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Tommy Roe,
Cal Tjader,
Kas Product,
Erykah Badu,
Fat Boys,
Matthew Halsall,
Subhumans,
Vladislav Delay,
Gerry Rafferty,
Das Ding,
Man Parrish,
The Skatalites,
Ponytail,
Crispy Ambulance, Crispy Ambulance, Crispy Ambulance, Crispy Ambulance.
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.