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 Iran and from Houston.
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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Heavy D & The Boyz to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Talk Talk. All the underground hits.
All Janne Schatter tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Harry Pussy 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marc Almond record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Siglo XX,
Animal Collective,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Buckinghams,
The Fugs,
The Smiths,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Rakim,
CMW,
Maleditus Sound,
Sound Behaviour,
Eve St. Jones,
James Chance & The Contortions,
the Slits,
Archie Shepp,
The Monochrome Set,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Invisible,
ABBA,
Shuggie Otis,
The Toasters,
June of 44,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Dave Gahan,
Unwound,
Marmalade,
Isaac Hayes,
Man Parrish,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Derrick Morgan,
Monolake,
EPMD,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Thompson Twins,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Divine Comedy,
UT,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Grandmaster Flash,
the Bar-Kays,
Gang Gang Dance,
Magma,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Jacques Brel,
The Seeds,
Lalann,
Godley & Creme,
The Gun Club,
David McCallum,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Electric Prunes,
Colin Newman,
Au Pairs,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Moleskins,
The Sonics,
The Martian,
Magazine,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Bobby Byrd,
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.