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 Comoros and from Salvador.
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 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Shanghai.
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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Barry Ungar to the techno kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Funkadelic. All the underground hits.
All Eli Mardock tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Red Krayola 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Boredoms record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Byron Stingily,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Malaria!,
Jandek,
Hashim,
Surgeon,
Dave Gahan,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Index,
Porter Ricks,
Bob Dylan,
The Motions,
Dawn Penn,
The Angels of Light,
Terrestrial Tones,
Ronan,
Black Moon,
Jerry Gold Smith,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Misunderstood,
Matthew Halsall,
The Victims,
Electric Prunes,
Hoover,
Ice-T,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Flamin' Groovies,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Last Poets,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Piero Umiliani,
Donald Byrd,
Kayak,
The Remains,
Grauzone,
Jeru the Damaja,
Amon Düül,
Rotary Connection,
Lalann,
Rod Modell,
The Fall,
Average White Band,
Don Cherry,
Rufus Thomas,
Con Funk Shun,
X-102,
Sandy B,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Amazonics,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Shadows of Knight,
Leonard Cohen,
Moby Grape,
Glenn Branca,
L. Decosne,
Adolescents,
Bobby Womack,
the Bar-Kays,
Los Fastidios,
Maurizio, Maurizio, Maurizio, Maurizio.
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.