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 Micronesia and from Stockholm.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 1971 at the first Neu! practice in a loft in Düsseldorf.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 the Swans to the dance kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 The Velvet Underground. All the underground hits.
All New Order tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Man Parrish 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sister Nancy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
B.T. Express,
Eve St. Jones,
Index,
The Martian,
Mars,
The Selecter,
Cal Tjader,
the Normal,
Boredoms,
Junior Murvin,
Ituana,
John Foxx,
Wolf Eyes,
The Fugs,
The Tremeloes,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Goldenarms,
Mad Mike,
The Blues Magoos,
Moebius,
Eric Copeland,
The Real Kids,
Man Parrish,
the Bar-Kays,
Minutemen,
Ralphi Rosario,
Franke,
Depeche Mode,
The Monks,
A Certain Ratio,
Aswad,
Theoretical Girls,
Terrestrial Tones,
Tommy Roe,
Soulsonic Force,
The Move,
Godley & Creme,
Anakelly,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Flash Fearless,
Blake Baxter,
Yellowson,
The Slits,
Kool Moe Dee,
Pole,
Surgeon,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Smiths,
E-Dancer,
Infiniti,
Susan Cadogan,
Crime,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Angry Samoans,
Sonny Sharrock,
Supertramp,
The Cure,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Sly & The Family Stone, Sly & The Family Stone, Sly & The Family Stone, Sly & The Family Stone.
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.