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 France and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band 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 Joey Negro. All the underground hits.
All Delon & Dalcan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jeff Mills record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Stockholm Monsters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tomorrow,
48th St. Collective,
Icehouse,
Maleditus Sound,
Adolescents,
ABC,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Bush Tetras,
Max Romeo,
EPMD,
The Mummies,
Gang Gang Dance,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Man Eating Sloth,
Joy Division,
UT,
Ronnie Foster,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Bad Manners,
Jeff Mills,
The Dead C,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Robert Görl,
Albert Ayler,
Pulsallama,
Clear Light,
Nation of Ulysses,
Basic Channel,
Fear,
Interpol,
Gregory Isaacs,
X-101,
Von Mondo,
World's Most,
Boz Scaggs,
Blancmange,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The American Breed,
The Star Department,
The Moleskins,
The Dirtbombs,
LL Cool J,
Crispy Ambulance,
Television,
Lalann,
Soulsonic Force,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Eric Copeland,
the Swans,
Delta 5,
Porter Ricks,
Electric Light Orchestra,
New Age Steppers,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Real Kids,
Guru Guru,
The Buckinghams,
The Modern Lovers,
Sound Behaviour,
The Slits, The Slits, The Slits, The Slits.
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.