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 Serbia and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Wire show in Watford.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Vaughan Mason & Crew 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 Fire Engines. All the underground hits.
All One Last Wish tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Suicide 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Moody Blues record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nirvana,
Marcia Griffiths,
Pantytec,
DJ Style,
June Days,
Delta 5,
The Searchers,
Maleditus Sound,
Lyres,
Scientists,
Lalo Schifrin,
Boredoms,
The Fortunes,
Electric Prunes,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Ultra Naté,
Alice Coltrane,
T. Rex,
The Durutti Column,
Tres Demented,
Connie Case,
The Cramps,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Idris Muhammad,
The Buckinghams,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
The J.B.'s,
Bang On A Can,
The Seeds,
Lindisfarne,
World's Most,
Patti Smith,
Soft Machine,
Bush Tetras,
Man Parrish,
Theoretical Girls,
Visage,
Television Personalities,
Thee Headcoats,
Leonard Cohen,
ABC,
UT,
Pylon,
Tears for Fears,
Malaria!,
Roger Hodgson,
A Certain Ratio,
The Mummies,
Erykah Badu,
Ossler,
kango's stein massive,
John Holt,
Pierre Henry,
The Smiths,
Mo-Dettes,
The Associates,
Oneida,
Suicide,
Gabor Szabo,
Hardrive, Hardrive, Hardrive, Hardrive.
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.