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 Papua New Guinea and from London.
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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 1976 at the first Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Maurizio to the punk 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 Gong. All the underground hits.
All Terror Squad Feat. Camron tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Throbbing Gristle record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eden Ahbez record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Soft Machine,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Radio Birdman,
Yellowson,
Franke,
Ultravox,
Nirvana,
John Holt,
Lucky Dragons,
The Detroit Cobras,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Don Cherry,
Grey Daturas,
Quando Quango,
Connie Case,
Morten Harket,
Wire,
the Soft Cell,
Robert Görl,
The Fugs,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Hot Snakes,
Kayak,
Radiohead,
Flipper,
KRS-One,
The American Breed,
Andrew Hill,
Curtis Mayfield,
the Normal,
The Kinks,
Half Japanese,
B.T. Express,
Eli Mardock,
The Selecter,
the Germs,
The Last Poets,
Reagan Youth,
Nation of Ulysses,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Radiopuhelimet,
DNA,
Schoolly D,
Urselle,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Siglo XX,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
The Wake,
The Fire Engines,
The Searchers,
Shuggie Otis,
Monks,
Avey Tare,
John Coltrane,
The Saints,
Guru Guru,
cv313,
Crooked Eye,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Althea and Donna, Althea and Donna, Althea and Donna, Althea and Donna.
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.