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 Vietnam and from Hong Kong.
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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 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 Be Bop Deluxe to the rock 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 Jimmy McGriff. All the underground hits.
All Gang Gang Dance tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Alphaville record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Malaria! record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Second Layer,
Crash Course in Science,
E-Dancer,
Lebanon Hanover,
Excepter,
Kayak,
Sandy B,
Rakim,
The Grass Roots,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Jesper Dahlback,
Anthony Braxton,
Saccharine Trust,
Carl Craig,
Alton Ellis,
Lalo Schifrin,
Niagra,
Black Bananas,
The Birthday Party,
Letta Mbulu,
48th St. Collective,
Rekid,
Adolescents,
The Cure,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Gichy Dan,
Moby Grape,
Unwound,
X-101,
U.S. Maple,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Loose Ends,
Ludus,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Kurtis Blow,
The Knickerbockers,
Liliput,
The Motions,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Neu!,
Cecil Taylor,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Cowsills,
Kaleidoscope,
Funky Four + One,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Theoretical Girls,
Anakelly,
Smog,
Hoover,
Scientists,
Visage,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Flesh Eaters,
Bauhaus,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Babytalk,
Eddi Front,
Donny Hathaway,
The Red Krayola,
the Swans,
Electric Prunes, Electric Prunes, Electric Prunes, Electric Prunes.
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.