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 Bangladesh and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Cymande to the techno kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Black Moon. All the underground hits.
All Roxy Music tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Mighty Diamonds record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Negative Approach record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Q65,
Throbbing Gristle,
Cheater Slicks,
Scientists,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Alarm Clocks,
Radio Birdman,
Mission of Burma,
Hashim,
Trumans Water,
Rekid,
Los Fastidios,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Bang On A Can,
Eurythmics,
Roxy Music,
the Slits,
Tom Boy,
Boredoms,
Black Bananas,
Brick,
Fear,
Tropical Tobacco,
Guru Guru,
Severed Heads,
Charles Mingus,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
8 Eyed Spy,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Young Marble Giants,
Gil Scott Heron,
Soul II Soul,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Swans,
Ludus,
the Soft Cell,
Absolute Body Control,
Kevin Saunderson,
Rapeman,
Babytalk,
Todd Rundgren,
Depeche Mode,
Fad Gadget,
Agitation Free,
Glambeats Corp.,
Silicon Teens,
The Human League,
Matthew Halsall,
Joe Smooth,
Sällskapet,
Bizarre Inc.,
a-ha,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Sandy B,
Derrick May,
X-Ray Spex,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Soft Machine,
T. Rex,
Stockholm Monsters,
Newcleus,
The Knickerbockers,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Last Poets, The Last Poets, The Last Poets, The Last Poets.
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.