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 Guyana and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle 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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 organ 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 The American Breed to the techno 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 Magma. All the underground hits.
All Lou Christie tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Terrestrial Tones record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sugar Minott record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Doobie Brothers,
Gang Starr,
Pantaleimon,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Mr. Review,
The Offenders,
The Misunderstood,
the Slits,
Niagra,
Roxette,
Neu!,
Crispy Ambulance,
Jeff Mills,
Adolescents,
Jacques Brel,
Visage,
Black Sheep,
Rufus Thomas,
The Gun Club,
The Selecter,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Mummies,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Janne Schatter,
Camberwell Now,
The Residents,
Newcleus,
Smog,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Tim Buckley,
The Invisible,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Malaria!,
Blancmange,
Andrew Hill,
Panda Bear,
Scrapy,
Suicide,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Boredoms,
Silicon Teens,
The New Christs,
Marcia Griffiths,
Infiniti,
Lucky Dragons,
Ice-T,
Barry Ungar,
Ponytail,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Moleskins,
Ituana,
Peter and Kerry,
CMW,
Dawn Penn,
B.T. Express,
the Human League,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The Knickerbockers,
Maleditus Sound,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Alarm Clocks, The Alarm Clocks, The Alarm Clocks, The Alarm Clocks.
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.