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 Kazakhstan and from Shanghai.
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 1965 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Mexico City.
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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 London Community Gospel Choir to the techno 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 Rekid. All the underground hits.
All Graham Central Station tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Darondo 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eli Mardock record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Johnny Osbourne,
Nico,
Adolescents,
Moby Grape,
Excepter,
Schoolly D,
Audionom,
Connie Case,
Yusef Lateef,
Josef K,
John Coltrane,
Hasil Adkins,
the Soft Cell,
David Bowie,
The Music Machine,
Metal Thangz,
Franke,
T. Rex,
Tropical Tobacco,
These Immortal Souls,
Aural Exciters,
Alphaville,
Cymande,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Yazoo,
a-ha,
the Human League,
The Dead C,
LL Cool J,
Television,
Donald Byrd,
Faraquet,
The Dave Clark Five,
the Normal,
Sound Behaviour,
Eli Mardock,
Theoretical Girls,
The Cure,
China Crisis,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
The Monks,
The Fall,
Bluetip,
MC5,
Radio Birdman,
Sarah Menescal,
Pierre Henry,
Monks,
Suicide,
Q and Not U,
The Pretty Things,
La Düsseldorf,
Tears for Fears,
Warsaw,
James Chance & The Contortions,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Motions,
The Misunderstood,
Brand Nubian,
Tommy Roe,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
OOIOO, OOIOO, OOIOO, OOIOO.
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.