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 Samoa and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 A Certain Ratio to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Bobby Sherman. All the underground hits.
All The Angels of Light tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bluetip record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cluster record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bootsy Collins,
Subhumans,
Can,
Mary Jane Girls,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Blackbyrds,
Outsiders,
Brick,
Lungfish,
Gang of Four,
The Stooges,
F. McDonald,
Maurizio,
Rakim,
Tubeway Army,
the Bar-Kays,
Whodini,
Peter & Gordon,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Amon Düül II,
Charles Mingus,
Bob Dylan,
Neu!,
Con Funk Shun,
Rod Modell,
Angry Samoans,
Sex Pistols,
The Slits,
Scientists,
Roxy Music,
The Motions,
Swell Maps,
The Associates,
Flamin' Groovies,
Man Parrish,
Scott Walker,
Pere Ubu,
Black Moon,
Derrick Morgan,
Underground Resistance,
Agitation Free,
Letta Mbulu,
Country Joe & The Fish,
A Certain Ratio,
Section 25,
Ultravox,
Tommy Roe,
The Seeds,
The Cure,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Nick Fraelich,
D'Angelo,
The Gories,
Barclay James Harvest,
Icehouse,
Niagra,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Fugs, The Fugs, The Fugs, The Fugs.
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.