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 Vietnam and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1968 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Nirvana to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Stiv Bators. All the underground hits.
All The Dave Clark Five tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Con Funk Shun 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Suicide record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sight & Sound,
Main Source,
Barry Ungar,
ABBA,
The Grass Roots,
Faraquet,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Country Teasers,
X-101,
Archie Shepp,
Stockholm Monsters,
Visage,
Kerrie Biddell,
Arcadia,
The Residents,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Von Mondo,
Slave,
Average White Band,
Rotary Connection,
Fatback Band,
Franke,
Nik Kershaw,
Television,
Tropical Tobacco,
Cameo,
Jacques Brel,
These Immortal Souls,
Clear Light,
Marvin Gaye,
Eric Dolphy,
Derrick May,
Sixth Finger,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Section 25,
The Martian,
The Litter,
The Star Department,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Move,
The Blackbyrds,
Whodini,
Minnie Riperton,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Patti Smith,
Robert Görl,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Hasil Adkins,
The Smoke,
Sällskapet,
KRS-One,
the Association,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Essential Logic,
Pere Ubu,
Minor Threat,
Mission of Burma,
Parry Music,
Cluster,
Cecil Taylor, Cecil Taylor, Cecil Taylor, Cecil Taylor.
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.