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 Gabon and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1969 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 Tom Verlaine 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 The Doors to the funk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 DJ Style. All the underground hits.
All The Gladiators tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wolf Eyes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Accadde A 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?
Glenn Branca,
Boz Scaggs,
The Gun Club,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Colin Newman,
John Cale,
Marine Girls,
Sandy B,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Archie Shepp,
the Sonics,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Interpol,
The Dead C,
Crooked Eye,
Brand Nubian,
Unrelated Segments,
Technova,
The Fugs,
FM Einheit,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Moody Blues,
Roger Hodgson,
the Normal,
Banda Bassotti,
Bush Tetras,
Lalo Schifrin,
Lower 48,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Joy Division,
The Dirtbombs,
Inner City,
Iggy Pop,
Judy Mowatt,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Sight & Sound,
The Busters,
Gang Starr,
Flipper,
The Last Poets,
Barbara Tucker,
Outsiders,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Crispy Ambulance,
Suicide,
The Red Krayola,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Ultimate Spinach,
Intrusion,
Desert Stars,
The Beau Brummels,
Tears for Fears,
New Age Steppers,
Scratch Acid,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Josef K,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Little Man,
Jeff Lynne,
Unwound,
Stockholm Monsters, Stockholm Monsters, Stockholm Monsters, Stockholm Monsters.
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.