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 Iceland and from Columbus.
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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Babytalk to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Sugar Minott. All the underground hits.
All Intrusion tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Albert Ayler record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 harpsichord and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nils Olav record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Fire Engines,
Sex Pistols,
Duran Duran,
Qualms,
Ronan,
Howard Jones,
Camouflage,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Kurtis Blow,
Gang Gang Dance,
Matthew Bourne,
Bauhaus,
The Real Kids,
The Walker Brothers,
Reuben Wilson,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Scrapy,
Warsaw,
Stiv Bators,
Charles Mingus,
Bizarre Inc.,
Rakim,
Eden Ahbez,
Electric Prunes,
Danielle Patucci,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Dead Boys,
The Music Machine,
Marvin Gaye,
Rod Modell,
Flipper,
Moebius,
Mars,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Wire,
New York Dolls,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
L. Decosne,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
John Cale,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Fear,
Sarah Menescal,
MC5,
Average White Band,
Fatback Band,
Bush Tetras,
Sound Behaviour,
U.S. Maple,
Robert Hood,
Kevin Saunderson,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Raincoats,
Brick,
Alton Ellis,
The Beau Brummels,
Severed Heads,
the Germs,
PIL,
Wally Richardson,
The Grass Roots,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Divine Comedy,
Index, Index, Index, Index.
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.