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 Chad and from Lyon.
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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 chamberlin 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 The Slackers to the punk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Fela Kuti. All the underground hits.
All The Royal Family And The Poor tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sound Behaviour 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Gap Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Radiohead,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Gories,
Cameo,
The Golliwogs,
B.T. Express,
Wings,
Organ,
Alison Limerick,
Drexciya,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Man Parrish,
Can,
Excepter,
Godley & Creme,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Fire Engines,
Jeff Lynne,
KRS-One,
Stiv Bators,
Alton Ellis,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Birthday Party,
Sällskapet,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Steve Hackett,
Bobby Byrd,
The Residents,
Icehouse,
Susan Cadogan,
Soft Machine,
New York Dolls,
Ronan,
Ultravox,
The Techniques,
Pole,
Todd Rundgren,
Dorothy Ashby,
Nico,
cv313,
Bad Manners,
Pere Ubu,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Roger Hodgson,
David Bowie,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Selecter,
Davy DMX,
Andrew Hill,
Boogie Down Productions,
Kas Product,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Flamin' Groovies,
Fad Gadget,
Gil Scott Heron,
David McCallum,
Eden Ahbez,
Visage,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Section 25,
the Human League,
Khruangbin, Khruangbin, Khruangbin, Khruangbin.
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.