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 South Africa and from Lagos.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Toronto.
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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the mellotron 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 The Divine Comedy to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 The Trojans. All the underground hits.
All Nirvana tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dark Day record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Matthew Halsall,
Tim Buckley,
John Holt,
Byron Stingily,
Amazonics,
Sex Pistols,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Man Parrish,
Gang Gang Dance,
Gang of Four,
Marc Almond,
Judy Mowatt,
the Germs,
Minutemen,
F. McDonald,
Freddie Wadling,
Althea and Donna,
Jeru the Damaja,
Ponytail,
Stockholm Monsters,
Pierre Henry,
Bob Dylan,
Cybotron,
Smog,
Mars,
June of 44,
Harpers Bizarre,
Jandek,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Patti Smith,
Quando Quango,
Stereo Dub,
Girls At Our Best!,
Bluetip,
Urselle,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Popol Vuh,
Gregory Isaacs,
Rites of Spring,
Roger Hodgson,
New York Dolls,
Masters at Work,
Absolute Body Control,
The Barracudas,
Arab on Radar,
Soft Cell,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Birthday Party,
Can,
Ultimate Spinach,
Massinfluence,
Livin' Joy,
Fat Boys,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Albert Ayler,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Neon Judgement,
The Martian,
The Kinks,
The Moleskins, The Moleskins, The Moleskins, The Moleskins.
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.