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 Kuwait and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 guitar 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 A Flock of Seagulls to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Lalann. All the underground hits.
All N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mo-Dettes 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Vogues record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Minnie Riperton,
The Cure,
Magazine,
8 Eyed Spy,
Soft Cell,
The Standells,
Banda Bassotti,
The Litter,
Jacques Brel,
Ultimate Spinach,
Los Fastidios,
Ice-T,
Kas Product,
Radio Birdman,
Duran Duran,
The Kinks,
Spoonie Gee,
Morten Harket,
Fear,
Sexual Harrassment,
Rhythm & Sound,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Mark Hollis,
The Invisible,
Albert Ayler,
Roy Ayers,
Marmalade,
Max Romeo,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Rod Modell,
Ituana,
Joe Finger,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Bluetip,
Judy Mowatt,
The Saints,
Nirvana,
The Walker Brothers,
Moby Grape,
Circle Jerks,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Sonics,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Isaac Hayes,
Y Pants,
John Lydon,
Visage,
Robert Wyatt,
The Cowsills,
Bob Dylan,
Model 500,
Depeche Mode,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Pere Ubu,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Smoke,
Camouflage,
Severed Heads,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Eddi Front,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Laurel Aitken, Laurel Aitken, Laurel Aitken, Laurel Aitken.
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.