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 Equatorial Guinea and from Taipei.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Joy Division to the punk 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 Lou Christie. All the underground hits.
All Aloha Tigers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Blues Magoos record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a These Immortal Souls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet 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?
The Five Americans,
Dark Day,
Los Fastidios,
The Trojans,
Gerry Rafferty,
Matthew Bourne,
The Sound,
Stereo Dub,
The Alarm Clocks,
F. McDonald,
Yazoo,
Kool Moe Dee,
Masters at Work,
the Association,
Dead Boys,
Letta Mbulu,
Scratch Acid,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Young Marble Giants,
Main Source,
Sister Nancy,
Crash Course in Science,
Kurtis Blow,
Joey Negro,
Television Personalities,
Derrick May,
Albert Ayler,
Eurythmics,
Roxy Music,
The Skatalites,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Terry Callier,
Alice Coltrane,
Sex Pistols,
Babytalk,
Warren Ellis,
Gichy Dan,
Ronan,
Rakim,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Martian,
Freddie Wadling,
The Gories,
The Selecter,
Janne Schatter,
Theoretical Girls,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Wasted Youth,
The Gap Band,
John Holt,
The Gun Club,
Flipper,
The Seeds,
Trumans Water,
The Velvet Underground,
Mandrill,
the Normal,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Lalann,
U.S. Maple,
Stetsasonic,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Scion,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog, Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog, Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog, Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog.
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.