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 Lesotho and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise 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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 sitar 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 Cymande to the grime 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 Nick Fraelich. All the underground hits.
All Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Alison Limerick record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Flesh Eaters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Stockholm Monsters,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
L. Decosne,
Boredoms,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Bobby Sherman,
The Zeros,
Todd Rundgren,
The Trojans,
Flash Fearless,
Anthony Braxton,
Ten City,
The Invisible,
Heaven 17,
KRS-One,
The Velvet Underground,
The American Breed,
Eric Dolphy,
Harpers Bizarre,
Unwound,
Sound Behaviour,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Radio Birdman,
The Sound,
Make Up,
Bootsy Collins,
Newcleus,
Dennis Brown,
The Angels of Light,
Mark Hollis,
Niagra,
Eric B and Rakim,
Pagans,
Byron Stingily,
a-ha,
Camberwell Now,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Suicide,
Dead Boys,
One Last Wish,
The Gap Band,
Barbara Tucker,
The Last Poets,
Liliput,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
John Cale,
Ituana,
Youth Brigade,
Leonard Cohen,
Guru Guru,
Girls At Our Best!,
Malaria!,
Cluster,
T. Rex,
Mad Mike,
Franke,
Crime,
Joe Finger,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Jeru the Damaja,
Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols.
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.