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 Ireland and from Manila.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Gang Gang Dance to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 James White and The Blacks. All the underground hits.
All Funkadelic tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Reagan Youth record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 snare and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bob Dylan record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Birthday Party,
Icehouse,
Fluxion,
Adolescents,
Surgeon,
Wally Richardson,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Grass Roots,
The Stooges,
The J.B.'s,
Faust,
Youth Brigade,
Robert Görl,
Bad Manners,
The Knickerbockers,
Blancmange,
Bronski Beat,
Siglo XX,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Arthur Verocai,
Silicon Teens,
Bluetip,
The Gladiators,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Slave,
David Bowie,
Alice Coltrane,
Royal Trux,
The Count Five,
Patti Smith,
Scientists,
Alton Ellis,
Aaron Thompson,
Shuggie Otis,
Tommy Roe,
Roxy Music,
Rufus Thomas,
Charles Mingus,
Susan Cadogan,
Inner City,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Johnny Clarke,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Swans,
Judy Mowatt,
Little Man,
Black Flag,
Lou Christie,
Saccharine Trust,
Brothers Johnson,
the Human League,
Archie Shepp,
Swell Maps,
The Happenings,
Suicide,
Jerry's Kids,
Hot Snakes,
Moebius,
Vainqueur,
Young Marble Giants, Young Marble Giants, Young Marble Giants, Young Marble Giants.
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.