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 Grenada and from Beijing.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 spring reverb 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 Lalo Schifrin to the dance 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 Arab on Radar. All the underground hits.
All Model 500 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rekid record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 an arpeggiator and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Beau Brummels record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Roxette,
David Bowie,
Gerry Rafferty,
Marvin Gaye,
Pussy Galore,
Spandau Ballet,
Arthur Verocai,
Sister Nancy,
Stereo Dub,
The Standells,
Essential Logic,
Mr. Review,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Piero Umiliani,
Kayak,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Graham Central Station,
A Certain Ratio,
The Walker Brothers,
Model 500,
Prince Buster,
Dead Boys,
Dorothy Ashby,
Whodini,
The Remains,
Tim Buckley,
Jacques Brel,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Beau Brummels,
Pantytec,
Neil Young,
Boz Scaggs,
The Vogues,
Godley & Creme,
The Shadows of Knight,
Johnny Clarke,
Fela Kuti,
Lou Reed,
Organ,
Main Source,
The Young Rascals,
AZ,
KRS-One,
Soulsonic Force,
Schoolly D,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Symarip,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Shoche,
Dark Day,
Byron Stingily,
In Retrospect,
Althea and Donna,
Boredoms,
Animal Collective,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
New Age Steppers,
Sun City Girls,
Peter & Gordon,
The Techniques,
Fear,
Avey Tare, Avey Tare, Avey Tare, Avey Tare.
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.