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 Sweden and from Edmonton.
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 1969 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Saccharine Trust to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Cheater Slicks. All the underground hits.
All Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Erykah Badu 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Slave record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Gun Club,
The Stooges,
Johnny Clarke,
Amazonics,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Ornette Coleman,
The Names,
Los Fastidios,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Monks,
Trumans Water,
Arcadia,
Gichy Dan,
The Moody Blues,
The Modern Lovers,
Pet Shop Boys,
Robert Görl,
Derrick May,
Bluetip,
H. Thieme,
The Electric Prunes,
Nick Fraelich,
Max Romeo,
Iggy Pop,
Livin' Joy,
The Red Krayola,
The Toasters,
Negative Approach,
X-101,
Josef K,
Altered Images,
The Cramps,
Lungfish,
Urselle,
Nirvana,
Frankie Knuckles,
Stetsasonic,
Funky Four + One,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Misunderstood,
The Smoke,
The Detroit Cobras,
Minny Pops,
Neu!,
Rapeman,
Lalo Schifrin,
Faust,
Hot Snakes,
Groovy Waters,
Curtis Mayfield,
Mary Jane Girls,
Bootsy Collins,
Aloha Tigers,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Icehouse,
Jesper Dahlback,
Laurel Aitken,
Bootsy's Rubber Band, Bootsy's Rubber Band, Bootsy's Rubber Band, Bootsy's Rubber Band.
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.