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 Suriname and from New York.
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 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Angry Samoans to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Oppenheimer Analysis. All the underground hits.
All Bobbi Humphrey tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pere Ubu record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Moon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
B.T. Express,
LL Cool J,
Sight & Sound,
Ronnie Foster,
Nick Fraelich,
The Names,
Nils Olav,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
John Cale,
Reuben Wilson,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Bronski Beat,
Clear Light,
The Seeds,
Lightning Bolt,
Los Fastidios,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Moebius,
Bush Tetras,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
K-Klass,
Anakelly,
June of 44,
Eurythmics,
cv313,
Slave,
Television Personalities,
A Certain Ratio,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Grey Daturas,
Black Sheep,
Yusef Lateef,
Bill Wells,
Prince Buster,
Sunsets and Hearts,
David Bowie,
Alison Limerick,
The Sound,
Pulsallama,
The Happenings,
Audionom,
Swell Maps,
Kenny Larkin,
The Moody Blues,
Black Flag,
Man Parrish,
Eric Dolphy,
Neu!,
Royal Trux,
Ohio Players,
Pierre Henry,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Techniques,
Theoretical Girls,
Bobby Byrd,
Pussy Galore,
Amon Düül II,
David McCallum,
The New Christs,
Mary Jane Girls,
Depeche Mode,
The Gladiators,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Panda Bear, Panda Bear, Panda Bear, Panda Bear.
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.