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 Botswana and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1969 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 guitar 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 Gap Band to the techno kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Camouflage. All the underground hits.
All Neil Young & Crazy Horse tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Soft Cell record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Blossom Toes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Cure,
Althea and Donna,
Popol Vuh,
Josef K,
The Velvet Underground,
Vainqueur,
Sexual Harrassment,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Stereo Dub,
Lakeside,
X-Ray Spex,
The Doors,
Ituana,
The Techniques,
The Monochrome Set,
Cybotron,
Crispian St. Peters,
Fatback Band,
Lyres,
Jawbox,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Kerri Chandler,
Bill Wells,
Joy Division,
The Busters,
Ralphi Rosario,
These Immortal Souls,
Sonny Sharrock,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
the Association,
The Black Dice,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Bush Tetras,
Wings,
Alphaville,
Patti Smith,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Radio Birdman,
Tubeway Army,
Eyeless In Gaza,
DNA,
Sugar Minott,
Gastr Del Sol,
Pet Shop Boys,
Cheater Slicks,
Black Moon,
Lou Christie,
Cymande,
the Slits,
Faust,
Bronski Beat,
The Gories,
Anthony Braxton,
The Victims,
Traffic Nightmare,
Sound Behaviour,
June Days,
Black Pus,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Tom Boy,
Scott Walker,
Nik Kershaw,
Rotary Connection,
Average White Band, Average White Band, Average White Band, Average White Band.
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.