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 Chile and from Seoul.
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 1969 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 organ 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 Sixth Finger to the disco kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane. All the underground hits.
All Banda Bassotti tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Interpol 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Soft Cell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sonic Youth,
Gang Gang Dance,
David Axelrod,
Second Layer,
Mr. Review,
Rufus Thomas,
Agent Orange,
Jandek,
Goldenarms,
Todd Rundgren,
Faraquet,
Barry Ungar,
The Smiths,
Todd Terry,
Jeff Lynne,
The Shadows of Knight,
a-ha,
Kevin Saunderson,
China Crisis,
Brass Construction,
The Durutti Column,
MDC,
Pussy Galore,
Yaz,
Soft Machine,
Loose Ends,
Deepchord,
Man Parrish,
Spandau Ballet,
The Walker Brothers,
The Electric Prunes,
June of 44,
Joe Finger,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Niagra,
Radio Birdman,
David Bowie,
The Mojo Men,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Massinfluence,
Faust,
Wire,
L. Decosne,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Ponytail,
Buzzcocks,
Camberwell Now,
The Martian,
Davy DMX,
Parry Music,
Dave Gahan,
Sister Nancy,
The Real Kids,
Ice-T,
Fatback Band,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
D'Angelo,
Fear,
Warsaw,
Girls At Our Best!,
Black Bananas, Black Bananas, Black Bananas, Black Bananas.
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.