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 Swaziland and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 mellotron 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 The Dirtbombs to the grunge kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Shoche. All the underground hits.
All T.S.O.L. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mark Hollis record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Teenage Jesus and the Jerks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
John Lydon,
The Cure,
Yaz,
Gastr Del Sol,
Soft Machine,
The Electric Prunes,
Steve Hackett,
Tomorrow,
Joe Smooth,
Young Marble Giants,
Spandau Ballet,
Laurel Aitken,
Essential Logic,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
David McCallum,
Marvin Gaye,
Mary Jane Girls,
Livin' Joy,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Angels of Light,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Moleskins,
Alison Limerick,
The Count Five,
Buzzcocks,
Neil Young,
Sight & Sound,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Scratch Acid,
Wasted Youth,
Rhythm & Sound,
The Slits,
Robert Görl,
June of 44,
Pole,
The Standells,
Matthew Bourne,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Whodini,
Masters at Work,
Mark Hollis,
Reagan Youth,
Mars,
Chrome,
Moebius,
Black Pus,
the Sonics,
Fela Kuti,
Wally Richardson,
Howard Jones,
La Düsseldorf,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Star Department,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Jeff Mills,
Nico,
The Smoke,
Malaria!,
The Fall, The Fall, The Fall, The Fall.
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.