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 Finland and from Madrid.
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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Quando Quango 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 Y Pants. All the underground hits.
All Iggy Pop tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tropical Tobacco record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Neu! record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crash Course in Science,
Saccharine Trust,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Connie Case,
X-Ray Spex,
Qualms,
Organ,
Tommy Roe,
Minutemen,
Massinfluence,
Junior Murvin,
Peter and Kerry,
The Blues Magoos,
Agent Orange,
Albert Ayler,
Howard Jones,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Angry Samoans,
Interpol,
Sam Rivers,
Skarface,
Sällskapet,
Infiniti,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Marvin Gaye,
Basic Channel,
Kayak,
Todd Terry,
Sugar Minott,
Average White Band,
Harmonia,
Gang Gang Dance,
Joe Finger,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Faust,
Rekid,
H. Thieme,
The Evens,
The Misunderstood,
Pussy Galore,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Darondo,
the Sonics,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Pantaleimon,
Soul II Soul,
Supertramp,
Mission of Burma,
Fatback Band,
Ronnie Foster,
Panda Bear,
Monks,
Hoover,
Sonic Youth,
Pylon,
Marcia Griffiths,
DJ Style,
The Gun Club,
Wire,
Sex Pistols,
Royal Trux,
Joyce Sims, Joyce Sims, Joyce Sims, Joyce Sims.
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.