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 Panama and from Milan.
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 1969 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the mellotron 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 The Music Machine to the crunk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Reagan Youth. All the underground hits.
All Ohio Players tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Louis and Bebe Barron record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a James White and The Blacks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ultravox,
The Flesh Eaters,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Tropical Tobacco,
ABC,
Robert Wyatt,
Mark Hollis,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Agitation Free,
Masters at Work,
The Motions,
Bootsy Collins,
Crispian St. Peters,
Henry Cow,
Sound Behaviour,
Gang Green,
Scott Walker,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Thee Headcoats,
Rekid,
The Black Dice,
Chris & Cosey,
Barry Ungar,
Con Funk Shun,
Khruangbin,
The Gladiators,
Jandek,
The Wake,
Nik Kershaw,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Tommy Roe,
The Raincoats,
Easy Going,
Qualms,
Agent Orange,
L. Decosne,
June Days,
Zero Boys,
The Saints,
Joe Finger,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Massinfluence,
Crime,
Marine Girls,
John Coltrane,
CMW,
Chrome,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Brass Construction,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Ponytail,
Barclay James Harvest,
Robert Görl,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
James White and The Blacks,
Hoover,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Peter & Gordon,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Human League,
Warsaw,
John Lydon,
The Dirtbombs,
Lou Christie, Lou Christie, Lou Christie, Lou Christie.
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.