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 Congo and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Arcadia to the disco kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Reuben Wilson. All the underground hits.
All The Busters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Louis and Bebe Barron record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tubeway Army record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cheater Slicks,
Quando Quango,
Robert Hood,
Mad Mike,
Pharoah Sanders,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Tres Demented,
Schoolly D,
Rufus Thomas,
Chrome,
The Young Rascals,
Grey Daturas,
The Barracudas,
Public Enemy,
Yazoo,
The Grass Roots,
Pulsallama,
Talk Talk,
X-Ray Spex,
Scratch Acid,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Alison Limerick,
The Dirtbombs,
Lou Christie,
Derrick May,
Hardrive,
Rekid,
Electric Prunes,
Tom Boy,
Gang Starr,
KRS-One,
June of 44,
The Cramps,
Drexciya,
Piero Umiliani,
Adolescents,
Archie Shepp,
Vainqueur,
Matthew Halsall,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Black Pus,
The Red Krayola,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Y Pants,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Laurel Aitken,
Yaz,
Visage,
The Flesh Eaters,
June Days,
Loose Ends,
Maurizio,
Johnny Clarke,
Lungfish,
Black Bananas,
Big Daddy Kane,
Ponytail,
The Detroit Cobras,
Sun City Girls, Sun City Girls, Sun City Girls, Sun City Girls.
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.