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 Thailand and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 1966 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 ABC to the punk 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 Jimmy McGriff. All the underground hits.
All The J.B.'s tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The New Christs record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Manfred Mann's Earth Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gerry Rafferty,
Intrusion,
Angry Samoans,
Crispian St. Peters,
Dave Gahan,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Darondo,
Delon & Dalcan,
Soft Machine,
AZ,
Johnny Clarke,
Ituana,
Marine Girls,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Gap Band,
David Axelrod,
The Tremeloes,
Black Bananas,
Monolake,
The Last Poets,
Duran Duran,
Kerri Chandler,
Steve Hackett,
Sam Rivers,
Maleditus Sound,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Fire Engines,
Suicide,
Outsiders,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Quadrant,
Q65,
Rakim,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Monks,
Kurtis Blow,
U.S. Maple,
Harmonia,
Saccharine Trust,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Camouflage,
The Gories,
Aswad,
Jeff Lynne,
R.M.O.,
Popol Vuh,
New York Dolls,
the Germs,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Vladislav Delay,
Warren Ellis,
Faust,
The Litter,
Alice Coltrane,
Robert Görl,
Nation of Ulysses,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Fuzztones,
Barclay James Harvest,
Essential Logic,
Crispy Ambulance,
Yellowson,
T. Rex, T. Rex, T. Rex, T. Rex.
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.