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 Dominica and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 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 The Mojo Men to the dance kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Desert Stars. All the underground hits.
All Jimmy McGriff tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nas record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Standells record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Man Parrish,
Simply Red,
Lucky Dragons,
Magazine,
Harpers Bizarre,
Marvin Gaye,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Youth Brigade,
UT,
The Victims,
Easy Going,
Public Image Ltd.,
Sällskapet,
Electric Prunes,
Glambeats Corp.,
Arab on Radar,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Lalo Schifrin,
Intrusion,
Al Stewart,
R.M.O.,
Mars,
The Fugs,
Mark Hollis,
Eddi Front,
Nick Fraelich,
World's Most,
The Leaves,
Barbara Tucker,
Gang Gang Dance,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Bizarre Inc.,
Bob Dylan,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Camouflage,
Inner City,
Joyce Sims,
Bad Manners,
Maurizio,
The Names,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Moby Grape,
Popol Vuh,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Franke,
Marc Almond,
Graham Central Station,
The Moody Blues,
Excepter,
the Fania All-Stars,
Severed Heads,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
U.S. Maple,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Stiv Bators,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Marine Girls,
Radio Birdman, Radio Birdman, Radio Birdman, Radio Birdman.
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.