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 Bangladesh and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 mellotron 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 Cabaret Voltaire to the rap 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 The Leaves. All the underground hits.
All Angels of Light & Akron/Family tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Flipper record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Wake record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Gun Club,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
X-102,
The Move,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Fatback Band,
Robert Görl,
Mark Hollis,
Faust,
Chris & Cosey,
Fugazi,
Monks,
New Order,
Make Up,
Schoolly D,
Bronski Beat,
Minnie Riperton,
Infiniti,
The Standells,
Franke,
Wire,
Kurtis Blow,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Gladiators,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Soft Cell,
The Pretty Things,
Lee Hazlewood,
Soul Sonic Force,
Q and Not U,
Basic Channel,
Amazonics,
Gang Gang Dance,
Barbara Tucker,
Marine Girls,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Bad Manners,
Scratch Acid,
Gang Green,
Black Sheep,
Soul II Soul,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Lou Reed,
Bobbi Humphrey,
LL Cool J,
Bootsy Collins,
The Wake,
Japan,
Sam Rivers,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Raincoats,
Swell Maps,
This Heat,
Soft Machine,
Camouflage,
The Selecter,
Von Mondo,
Anakelly,
Prince Buster,
John Foxx, John Foxx, John Foxx, John Foxx.
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.