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 Guyana and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 harpsichord 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 Minnie Riperton to the punk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Marine Girls. All the underground hits.
All Swans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cheater Slicks 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Man Eating Sloth record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Khruangbin,
Frankie Knuckles,
Stiv Bators,
Don Cherry,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Count Five,
Moby Grape,
Amon Düül II,
The Gun Club,
Scion,
Sällskapet,
The Grass Roots,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Carl Craig,
Little Man,
L. Decosne,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
The Remains,
the Sonics,
Circle Jerks,
The Zeros,
Jeru the Damaja,
Joe Finger,
Aswad,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Massinfluence,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Mars,
Ronan,
Wolf Eyes,
The United States of America,
Country Teasers,
Main Source,
Delon & Dalcan,
Intrusion,
Rhythm & Sound,
Half Japanese,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
UT,
Harpers Bizarre,
Pierre Henry,
Warren Ellis,
Bootsy Collins,
The Gap Band,
The Blues Magoos,
John Lydon,
Gang Starr,
Howard Jones,
Camberwell Now,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Tom Boy,
Wasted Youth,
Crooked Eye,
Harmonia,
The Move,
Eurythmics,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Moody Blues,
Popol Vuh, Popol Vuh, Popol Vuh, Popol Vuh.
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.