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 Romania and from Calgary.
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 1960 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Sonics to the grunge kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Tears for Fears. All the underground hits.
All Whodini tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every EPMD record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 synthesizer and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Pus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Moby Grape,
Leonard Cohen,
Wire,
Josef K,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Technova,
These Immortal Souls,
Panda Bear,
D'Angelo,
Hot Snakes,
The Five Americans,
Radio Birdman,
The Motions,
The Moody Blues,
Q and Not U,
Mary Jane Girls,
Skaos,
B.T. Express,
Metal Thangz,
Chris Corsano,
Malaria!,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Bang On A Can,
Nation of Ulysses,
In Retrospect,
Matthew Bourne,
Pylon,
the Fania All-Stars,
Intrusion,
Amon Düül,
Camberwell Now,
The Evens,
Clear Light,
Tubeway Army,
Thee Headcoats,
The Velvet Underground,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Jeru the Damaja,
Sun Ra,
Lucky Dragons,
Ossler,
FM Einheit,
The Searchers,
Danielle Patucci,
Lalann,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Ituana,
David Bowie,
Eddi Front,
Tommy Roe,
Los Fastidios,
UT,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Dirtbombs,
The Fugs,
Brass Construction,
The Cramps,
Gang Green,
Soul Sonic Force,
Symarip,
Main Source,
The Smiths,
The Fall,
Tomorrow, Tomorrow, Tomorrow, Tomorrow.
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.