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 Madagascar and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Procol Harum to the funk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson. All the underground hits.
All Adolescents tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Radio Birdman record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Outsiders record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Royal Trux,
Jacques Brel,
The Misunderstood,
Barry Ungar,
Chrome,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Sly & The Family Stone,
Interpol,
The Dead C,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Cameo,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
The Offenders,
U.S. Maple,
The Searchers,
Slave,
FM Einheit,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Soul Sonic Force,
Von Mondo,
Essential Logic,
Moebius,
Sparks,
Albert Ayler,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Toasters,
Magma,
Steve Hackett,
Ossler,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Ludus,
Spoonie Gee,
Boz Scaggs,
Fugazi,
Barclay James Harvest,
Ralphi Rosario,
Alphaville,
the Germs,
Nico,
The Gun Club,
Arab on Radar,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Theoretical Girls,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
The New Christs,
The Grass Roots,
The Real Kids,
The Barracudas,
Harry Pussy,
Unrelated Segments,
Mr. Review,
Crooked Eye,
New York Dolls,
Traffic Nightmare,
Minutemen,
Cybotron,
John Holt,
Aaron Thompson,
The Selecter,
The Pretty Things,
8 Eyed Spy,
Zapp,
Lonnie Liston Smith, Lonnie Liston Smith, Lonnie Liston Smith, Lonnie Liston Smith.
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.