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 Barbados and from Mumbai.
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 1960 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 guitar 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 Sam Rivers to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Smiths. All the underground hits.
All Ultramagnetic MC's tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Peter & Gordon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Magazine record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Martian,
New York Dolls,
Zapp,
Pet Shop Boys,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Nas,
Babytalk,
Terrestrial Tones,
the Germs,
Piero Umiliani,
Smog,
James White and The Blacks,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Jeff Lynne,
Lalann,
Donald Byrd,
Althea and Donna,
Accadde A,
Radio Birdman,
The Divine Comedy,
The Knickerbockers,
Sonny Sharrock,
Barrington Levy,
the Normal,
Toni Rubio,
The Fall,
Adolescents,
The Trojans,
Surgeon,
Cal Tjader,
Derrick Morgan,
Loose Ends,
K-Klass,
Vladislav Delay,
Quantec,
Gang Starr,
The Tremeloes,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Gap Band,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Infiniti,
Sixth Finger,
Danielle Patucci,
Tim Buckley,
Moss Icon,
Chris & Cosey,
This Heat,
The Victims,
Matthew Halsall,
Youth Brigade,
Grauzone,
The Cure,
Mandrill,
Hasil Adkins,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Durutti Column,
Mr. Review,
Jacob Miller,
Scratch Acid,
Ultimate Spinach, Ultimate Spinach, Ultimate Spinach, Ultimate Spinach.
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.