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 Tanzania and from Copenhagen.
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 1964 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Calgary.
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 1976 at the first Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Kurtis Blow to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 June Days. All the underground hits.
All Slick Rick tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Fuzztones 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 synthesizer and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Richard Hell and the Voidoids record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Talk Talk,
The Buckinghams,
Rites of Spring,
Boredoms,
Man Parrish,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Pretty Things,
Stetsasonic,
Sparks,
Robert Wyatt,
Gil Scott Heron,
Steve Hackett,
Andrew Hill,
Joe Finger,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Jeff Lynne,
Faust,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Duran Duran,
Lower 48,
Make Up,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Drexciya,
Barry Ungar,
Lee Hazlewood,
Gichy Dan,
Pet Shop Boys,
June of 44,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Lakeside,
Hoover,
Traffic Nightmare,
Jawbox,
Nils Olav,
Crime,
Albert Ayler,
Tres Demented,
Visage,
Dual Sessions,
Eden Ahbez,
Cluster,
Cameo,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Leaves,
Amon Düül,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
China Crisis,
The Fuzztones,
Lungfish,
The Doors,
Crooked Eye,
Pierre Henry,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Can,
Ohio Players,
Easy Going,
Fad Gadget,
Crash Course in Science,
the Normal,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Fatback Band,
Soul II Soul,
Lightning Bolt,
Kayak, Kayak, Kayak, Kayak.
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.