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 Guinea and from Taipei.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the organ 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 Masters at Work to the dance kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Agent Orange. All the underground hits.
All Jerry Gold Smith tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Dave Clark Five record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eric Copeland record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare 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 Buckinghams,
Leonard Cohen,
Das Ding,
Moss Icon,
Rotary Connection,
Black Bananas,
The Pretty Things,
Surgeon,
Skaos,
The Last Poets,
Marc Almond,
Grandmaster Flash,
Joyce Sims,
Banda Bassotti,
Rekid,
Iggy Pop,
the Fania All-Stars,
the Association,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Crispy Ambulance,
Model 500,
Eurythmics,
OOIOO,
Patti Smith,
Babytalk,
Terrestrial Tones,
Nik Kershaw,
Sex Pistols,
Scientists,
Silicon Teens,
Quando Quango,
Pere Ubu,
Whodini,
Kool Moe Dee,
The American Breed,
Pagans,
Siglo XX,
Chrome,
MDC,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Fortunes,
Average White Band,
Lungfish,
Youth Brigade,
Slave,
Ultravox,
Magazine,
Cheater Slicks,
Erasure,
Index,
Anthony Braxton,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Wolf Eyes,
Dawn Penn,
Sun City Girls,
Drive Like Jehu,
Bizarre Inc.,
Cecil Taylor,
Porter Ricks,
Crispian St. Peters, Crispian St. Peters, Crispian St. Peters, Crispian St. Peters.
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.