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 Gambia and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Arthur Verocai to the punk 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 The Victims. All the underground hits.
All Jimmy McGriff tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Inner City record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a ABBA record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marc Almond,
Maleditus Sound,
Fat Boys,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Andrew Hill,
Yaz,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Bang On A Can,
Darondo,
The Cure,
Eve St. Jones,
The Gun Club,
Flamin' Groovies,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Vogues,
Al Stewart,
Yazoo,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Cramps,
Monolake,
Godley & Creme,
Bobby Womack,
KRS-One,
Skaos,
Sister Nancy,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Inner City,
Mark Hollis,
Hoover,
MC5,
X-102,
David Axelrod,
John Cale,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Donald Byrd,
Harry Pussy,
Cheater Slicks,
Bad Manners,
Index,
Frankie Knuckles,
Newcleus,
Nas,
Wasted Youth,
Bluetip,
Eric Copeland,
Black Moon,
Neil Young,
Aural Exciters,
Severed Heads,
Sex Pistols,
The Durutti Column,
Fatback Band,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Idris Muhammad,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Pop Group,
Electric Prunes,
Hardrive,
Pet Shop Boys,
ABBA,
Todd Terry,
The Blackbyrds,
June Days, June Days, June Days, June Days.
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.