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 Liberia and from Manchester.
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 1966 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Idris Muhammad to the rap 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 Iggy Pop. All the underground hits.
All Rapeman tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Big Daddy Kane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wasted Youth,
Make Up,
The Evens,
Gastr Del Sol,
Nico,
The Victims,
DNA,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Avey Tare,
Hot Snakes,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Smog,
The Trojans,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
FM Einheit,
London Community Gospel Choir,
One Last Wish,
Babytalk,
Grandmaster Flash,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Hoover,
OOIOO,
Hasil Adkins,
Lou Christie,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Pharoah Sanders,
Janne Schatter,
Black Sheep,
Sparks,
Scan 7,
Jimmy McGriff,
Sam Rivers,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Skarface,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Smiths,
The Martian,
Country Teasers,
Delon & Dalcan,
Metal Thangz,
Flipper,
Depeche Mode,
Lucky Dragons,
the Slits,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Bronski Beat,
Mark Hollis,
In Retrospect,
The Black Dice,
Tim Buckley,
Bluetip,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
John Lydon,
Deepchord,
Crash Course in Science,
Rites of Spring,
The Slackers,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Outsiders,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Slave, Slave, Slave, Slave.
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.