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 Turkmenistan and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Hashim to the crunk 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 The Saints. All the underground hits.
All Harry Pussy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Red Krayola record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sister Nancy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Fuzztones,
Alphaville,
Skarface,
The Moleskins,
Dead Boys,
Lyres,
Wire,
Procol Harum,
ABC,
Cal Tjader,
Bobby Sherman,
Gang Starr,
Rotary Connection,
Funkadelic,
Blossom Toes,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Skriet,
Crime,
Von Mondo,
Hot Snakes,
Ituana,
Japan,
James White and The Blacks,
Vainqueur,
DNA,
The Walker Brothers,
Rakim,
Wally Richardson,
Pussy Galore,
R.M.O.,
Yazoo,
the Swans,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Soft Machine,
Eddi Front,
Isaac Hayes,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Sparks,
Joey Negro,
T. Rex,
The Alarm Clocks,
Ronan,
Altered Images,
Faust,
Ken Boothe,
The Doobie Brothers,
X-Ray Spex,
the Slits,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Panda Bear,
Infiniti,
Quando Quango,
Bad Manners,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Amon Düül II,
Michelle Simonal,
B.T. Express,
Albert Ayler,
Sexual Harrassment,
Chris Corsano,
Flamin' Groovies,
Heaven 17,
Essential Logic,
Camberwell Now, Camberwell Now, Camberwell Now, Camberwell Now.
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.