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 Singapore and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1967 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 guitar 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 The Flesh Eaters to the jazz 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 The Walker Brothers. All the underground hits.
All Oppenheimer Analysis tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Country Joe & The Fish record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Foxx record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Con Funk Shun,
Eli Mardock,
Nik Kershaw,
The Fire Engines,
Bill Near,
The Birthday Party,
Jimmy McGriff,
Tommy Roe,
a-ha,
R.M.O.,
Royal Trux,
Moebius,
Pylon,
Fat Boys,
Steve Hackett,
Dead Boys,
The Selecter,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Cluster,
Dawn Penn,
Scan 7,
Oblivians,
Bronski Beat,
Duran Duran,
Joe Finger,
Delon & Dalcan,
Sam Rivers,
Ornette Coleman,
Circle Jerks,
the Bar-Kays,
The Moleskins,
Shoche,
Chris Corsano,
Matthew Halsall,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Bobby Sherman,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Black Dice,
The Remains,
Joy Division,
Pantytec,
Sandy B,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Carl Craig,
Ultra Naté,
Clear Light,
Mad Mike,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Dual Sessions,
Toni Rubio,
Model 500,
Japan,
the Human League,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Knickerbockers,
The Music Machine,
Altered Images,
Heaven 17,
F. McDonald,
OOIOO, OOIOO, OOIOO, OOIOO.
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.