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 Lithuania and from Winnipeg.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Copenhagen.
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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Move to the rock kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Scott Walker. All the underground hits.
All Rekid tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Men They Couldn't Hang record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Con Funk Shun record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sound Behaviour,
Scott Walker,
R.M.O.,
The Fugs,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Pop Group,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Dave Clark Five,
Oblivians,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Fire Engines,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Laurel Aitken,
Main Source,
Slave,
Tommy Roe,
Dead Boys,
Lee Hazlewood,
MDC,
Joyce Sims,
Saccharine Trust,
Wings,
Con Funk Shun,
The Pretty Things,
Index,
Monks,
DJ Style,
Iggy Pop,
Oneida,
Toni Rubio,
Fat Boys,
Camberwell Now,
Donny Hathaway,
Fad Gadget,
Unrelated Segments,
Terrestrial Tones,
Mars,
Delon & Dalcan,
John Cale,
Bill Near,
Throbbing Gristle,
the Swans,
Outsiders,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Motorama,
Half Japanese,
Radio Birdman,
Fluxion,
The Index,
Dark Day,
Moby Grape,
Pussy Galore,
Big Daddy Kane,
Reuben Wilson,
Glenn Branca,
Von Mondo,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The Red Krayola,
Gil Scott Heron,
Mr. Review,
Can, Can, Can, Can.
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.