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 United Kingdom and from Philadelphia.
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 1961 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Teenage Jesus and the Jerks to the dance 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 Yaz. All the underground hits.
All Magazine tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Boz Scaggs record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Oppenheimer Analysis record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Stooges,
Neil Young,
Wally Richardson,
Blossom Toes,
Neu!,
Rites of Spring,
Kaleidoscope,
Bobby Sherman,
Deadbeat,
Eric B and Rakim,
Oneida,
Susan Cadogan,
Alison Limerick,
Danielle Patucci,
Camberwell Now,
Donny Hathaway,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Offenders,
ABC,
Flamin' Groovies,
Glenn Branca,
Ohio Players,
Essential Logic,
The Busters,
Mission of Burma,
Chris Corsano,
Drive Like Jehu,
Jacob Miller,
Radiopuhelimet,
Nik Kershaw,
Pole,
Urselle,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Scientists,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Eve St. Jones,
Quando Quango,
Throbbing Gristle,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Buzzcocks,
Rufus Thomas,
The Birthday Party,
Sparks,
Fluxion,
Kerri Chandler,
Television,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Deakin,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Ituana,
The Dave Clark Five,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Soft Machine,
Jerry's Kids,
The Mummies,
Young Marble Giants,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Standells,
PIL,
Easy Going,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Swell Maps, Swell Maps, Swell Maps, Swell Maps.
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.