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 Albania and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise 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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 Holger Czukay 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 Tropical Tobacco 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 Nas. All the underground hits.
All Half Japanese tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Chrome record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 synthesizer and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Liliput record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Sound,
cv313,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Banda Bassotti,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Modern Lovers,
Lee Hazlewood,
Barry Ungar,
The Cramps,
Bob Dylan,
Skaos,
Adolescents,
Junior Murvin,
Wolf Eyes,
The Standells,
Moebius,
Quando Quango,
Ultimate Spinach,
Gil Scott Heron,
Pantaleimon,
Leonard Cohen,
Metal Thangz,
The Tremeloes,
Excepter,
Sällskapet,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Mr. Review,
Sarah Menescal,
Letta Mbulu,
Pet Shop Boys,
Bobby Sherman,
Rites of Spring,
The Last Poets,
The Zeros,
Moby Grape,
Livin' Joy,
Make Up,
Delon & Dalcan,
Kenny Larkin,
D'Angelo,
Derrick Morgan,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Searchers,
Avey Tare,
Rakim,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Joe Smooth,
The Fortunes,
Janne Schatter,
Procol Harum,
Alton Ellis,
The Slits,
the Germs,
Radio Birdman,
The Moody Blues,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Peter and Kerry,
Black Bananas,
The Knickerbockers,
48th St. Collective,
Ossler,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Kaleidoscope, Kaleidoscope, Kaleidoscope, Kaleidoscope.
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.