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 Japan and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1965 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 James Chance & The Contortions to the disco kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Monolake. All the underground hits.
All Glenn Branca tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Flamin' Groovies record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lou Christie record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Suicide,
Subhumans,
Boogie Down Productions,
Animal Collective,
Mandrill,
The Tremeloes,
Sarah Menescal,
Arthur Verocai,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Circle Jerks,
Yusef Lateef,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Gories,
Roxette,
Arab on Radar,
Yaz,
Make Up,
Robert Görl,
Youth Brigade,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Barry Ungar,
Black Pus,
Bobby Womack,
John Foxx,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Techniques,
Archie Shepp,
Can,
Desert Stars,
Swans,
Sugar Minott,
Sex Pistols,
Mo-Dettes,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Urselle,
Funky Four + One,
Magazine,
Eve St. Jones,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Eddi Front,
Roy Ayers,
Peter and Kerry,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Slick Rick,
Joey Negro,
Porter Ricks,
Pussy Galore,
Lebanon Hanover,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Terry Callier,
Lungfish,
Jeff Lynne,
Main Source,
Ronan,
Ronnie Foster,
Skriet,
Jacques Brel,
Gang Green,
Marine Girls,
Inner City,
Spoonie Gee, Spoonie Gee, Spoonie Gee, Spoonie Gee.
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.