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 Uzbekistan and from Manila.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Beijing.
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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the oboe 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 The Fortunes to the rock 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 Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds. All the underground hits.
All The Flesh Eaters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Freddie Wadling 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fifty Foot Hose record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Flesh Eaters,
Throbbing Gristle,
Symarip,
Arthur Verocai,
Urselle,
Camouflage,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Tremeloes,
Kas Product,
The New Christs,
Dawn Penn,
Alice Coltrane,
Aaron Thompson,
The Toasters,
China Crisis,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Matthew Halsall,
Trumans Water,
the Swans,
The Saints,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Guru Guru,
Minny Pops,
Yaz,
Cluster,
Accadde A,
JFA,
Soft Cell,
Erykah Badu,
Sex Pistols,
The Associates,
Janne Schatter,
Scientists,
Crispy Ambulance,
Underground Resistance,
Drexciya,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Faraquet,
Surgeon,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Country Teasers,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Detroit Cobras,
E-Dancer,
Sugar Minott,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Television Personalities,
The Residents,
Ralphi Rosario,
Lou Christie,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Magazine,
the Human League,
the Normal,
The Black Dice,
Bauhaus,
Lalann, Lalann, Lalann, Lalann.
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.