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 Pakistan and from Madrid.
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 London and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx to the crunk 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 Oblivians. All the underground hits.
All Ornette Coleman tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Jesus and Mary Chain record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a La Düsseldorf record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Basic Channel,
Soft Cell,
Excepter,
Hot Snakes,
Colin Newman,
X-Ray Spex,
Minny Pops,
Pulsallama,
Popol Vuh,
Eden Ahbez,
Newcleus,
Subhumans,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Wake,
Charles Mingus,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Zero Boys,
The Black Dice,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Kaleidoscope,
Joey Negro,
Black Bananas,
Sixth Finger,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Bauhaus,
New Order,
The American Breed,
Radio Birdman,
The Buckinghams,
Monks,
Ponytail,
the Slits,
Saccharine Trust,
Andrew Hill,
Spoonie Gee,
Crash Course in Science,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Drexciya,
Skarface,
Slick Rick,
The Gap Band,
Matthew Halsall,
Stetsasonic,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Quadrant,
Donny Hathaway,
The Five Americans,
The Flesh Eaters,
Sparks,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Deadbeat,
Robert Görl,
The Toasters,
In Retrospect,
Magazine,
Mad Mike,
Ultra Naté,
The Vogues,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Procol Harum,
Yaz,
Jandek,
Vainqueur, Vainqueur, Vainqueur, Vainqueur.
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.