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 Azerbaijan and from Spokane.
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 1962 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Throbbing Gristle 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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade. All the underground hits.
All F. McDonald tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band 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 snare and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Don Cherry 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?
Mr. Review,
the Soft Cell,
Camouflage,
Grauzone,
The Saints,
Ten City,
the Association,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Motorama,
Iggy Pop,
The Moleskins,
Tommy Roe,
Soft Cell,
Lower 48,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Bobby Byrd,
The Slits,
The Doobie Brothers,
Flamin' Groovies,
Marmalade,
Pantaleimon,
The Pop Group,
Sonny Sharrock,
T.S.O.L.,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Litter,
Quantec,
Lebanon Hanover,
Los Fastidios,
Gregory Isaacs,
the Bar-Kays,
Smog,
This Heat,
Gang Gang Dance,
Dual Sessions,
Bill Wells,
Gastr Del Sol,
DJ Sneak,
the Sonics,
Essential Logic,
The Selecter,
Fear,
FM Einheit,
Isaac Hayes,
Public Image Ltd.,
Malaria!,
Depeche Mode,
Cal Tjader,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
kango's stein massive,
Mission of Burma,
The Busters,
Stockholm Monsters,
Rufus Thomas,
Absolute Body Control,
Connie Case,
Subhumans,
Mantronix,
Zapp,
Eric B and Rakim,
Visage, Visage, Visage, Visage.
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.