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 Iceland and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 T.S.O.L. to the techno kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Lucky Dragons. All the underground hits.
All Matthew Bourne 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Agent Orange record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Terry Callier,
Sparks,
Bad Manners,
Ultimate Spinach,
L. Decosne,
Nick Fraelich,
Andrew Hill,
Camouflage,
Bobby Sherman,
Eden Ahbez,
One Last Wish,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Lightning Bolt,
Derrick Morgan,
Colin Newman,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Althea and Donna,
The Fall,
Sugar Minott,
The Sonics,
The Dirtbombs,
The Monochrome Set,
Ronnie Foster,
Fluxion,
Metal Thangz,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Moody Blues,
Davy DMX,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The American Breed,
Surgeon,
Ludus,
The Kinks,
Minny Pops,
Brick,
Danielle Patucci,
Icehouse,
The Index,
The Sisters of Mercy,
the Soft Cell,
Tres Demented,
Piero Umiliani,
Sonny Sharrock,
Byron Stingily,
Duran Duran,
Aaron Thompson,
The Victims,
Kayak,
Clear Light,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Scrapy,
Lower 48,
10cc,
The Saints,
Robert Hood,
Pylon,
Angry Samoans,
Negative Approach,
Los Fastidios,
Johnny Osbourne,
Scion, Scion, Scion, Scion.
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.