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 Taiwan and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 marimba 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 A Flock of Seagulls 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 Dead Boys. All the underground hits.
All the Soft Cell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Peter & Gordon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 marimba and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bluetip record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Infiniti,
Lower 48,
Youth Brigade,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Monolake,
LL Cool J,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Charles Mingus,
Susan Cadogan,
The J.B.'s,
Rod Modell,
Dorothy Ashby,
Television Personalities,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Reagan Youth,
The Searchers,
The Divine Comedy,
Unwound,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Reuben Wilson,
Qualms,
Bob Dylan,
Sight & Sound,
Radio Birdman,
Pulsallama,
Visage,
Nirvana,
Sparks,
The Dirtbombs,
Circle Jerks,
Sex Pistols,
Junior Murvin,
Eve St. Jones,
Amon Düül,
Lalann,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Angels of Light,
Crime,
MDC,
Cal Tjader,
Camberwell Now,
The Dave Clark Five,
DJ Sneak,
Country Teasers,
Rosa Yemen,
New Age Steppers,
The Mojo Men,
Black Flag,
Whodini,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
John Holt,
Slick Rick,
The Move,
Panda Bear,
Gang Gang Dance,
James White and The Blacks,
Pussy Galore,
Man Parrish, Man Parrish, Man Parrish, Man Parrish.
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.