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 South Africa and from Philadelphia.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 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 Dead Boys to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 The Angels of Light. All the underground hits.
All Cheater Slicks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mandrill 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a China Crisis record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Alarm Clocks,
Procol Harum,
Marc Almond,
Scratch Acid,
Minny Pops,
The Knickerbockers,
Bob Dylan,
Youth Brigade,
Intrusion,
the Swans,
The Invisible,
Idris Muhammad,
Pantaleimon,
Bobby Byrd,
Amon Düül,
Peter & Gordon,
The Monks,
Negative Approach,
Marine Girls,
Yazoo,
Quadrant,
Deadbeat,
The Searchers,
June of 44,
Cecil Taylor,
Eve St. Jones,
Sparks,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Howard Jones,
Bill Near,
Popol Vuh,
Jeff Lynne,
The Fugs,
The Smiths,
The American Breed,
Inner City,
Soul II Soul,
The Residents,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Spandau Ballet,
the Normal,
Public Image Ltd.,
Royal Trux,
Camberwell Now,
Jeff Mills,
Zapp,
Robert Wyatt,
Metal Thangz,
Kurtis Blow,
Monolake,
Roxette,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Angels of Light,
Max Romeo,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Absolute Body Control,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu, Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu, Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu, Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu.
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.