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 Uzbekistan and from New York.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 synthesizer 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 James Chance & The Contortions to the grime kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Harmonia. All the underground hits.
All Severed Heads tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Byrd record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 clarinet and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Gap Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fela Kuti,
Crispian St. Peters,
Don Cherry,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Big Daddy Kane,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Matthew Bourne,
Graham Central Station,
Flash Fearless,
Dead Boys,
Ronan,
Neil Young,
Liliput,
Lalann,
Simply Red,
Donald Byrd,
New York Dolls,
Glambeats Corp.,
Y Pants,
The Flesh Eaters,
Eddi Front,
Colin Newman,
The Blues Magoos,
8 Eyed Spy,
Joy Division,
Groovy Waters,
Delta 5,
UT,
Tears for Fears,
Prince Buster,
The Black Dice,
Khruangbin,
Magma,
Tropical Tobacco,
Average White Band,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Saccharine Trust,
The Monks,
Lyres,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Sixth Finger,
Hasil Adkins,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Dave Clark Five,
Quantec,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Youth Brigade,
The Searchers,
Camberwell Now,
Mad Mike,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
June Days,
Malaria!,
Altered Images,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Vogues,
Radio Birdman,
The Grass Roots,
Rapeman,
Mr. Review,
The Mojo Men,
Boz Scaggs,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds, Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds, Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds, Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds.
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.