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 Cameroon and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Bizarre Inc. to the funk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Sonny Sharrock. All the underground hits.
All The Mighty Diamonds tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Desert Stars record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nirvana record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wolf Eyes,
Robert Görl,
Porter Ricks,
Lou Christie,
Livin' Joy,
The Gladiators,
Eurythmics,
Franke,
Rapeman,
Jerry's Kids,
the Sonics,
Robert Wyatt,
Moby Grape,
The Star Department,
The Trojans,
Pussy Galore,
R.M.O.,
Radio Birdman,
Fat Boys,
Popol Vuh,
Sandy B,
The Toasters,
Juan Atkins,
Tom Boy,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Susan Cadogan,
The Saints,
John Coltrane,
Ituana,
Chrome,
Warren Ellis,
The Moleskins,
Eve St. Jones,
Oneida,
Lower 48,
Donald Byrd,
Bizarre Inc.,
Scrapy,
Roxette,
Circle Jerks,
X-Ray Spex,
Trumans Water,
Visage,
Graham Central Station,
Black Pus,
The Gap Band,
The Velvet Underground,
Supertramp,
The Sound,
The Slackers,
Dennis Brown,
Underground Resistance,
The Real Kids,
Second Layer,
Jimmy McGriff,
Fear,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Fugs,
The Slits,
Lou Reed, Lou Reed, Lou Reed, Lou Reed.
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.