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 Malawi and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Tokyo.
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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the güiro 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 Altered Images to the grime 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 Dawn Penn. All the underground hits.
All Soft Machine tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Cosmic Jokers 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a DJ Style record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Minor Threat,
F. McDonald,
Lalo Schifrin,
Vainqueur,
The Gories,
Black Flag,
Sixth Finger,
New Age Steppers,
Byron Stingily,
Max Romeo,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Bill Near,
Fluxion,
U.S. Maple,
Bush Tetras,
Chrome,
The American Breed,
Tears for Fears,
Funkadelic,
Janne Schatter,
Albert Ayler,
Black Pus,
The Blackbyrds,
Model 500,
Juan Atkins,
kango's stein massive,
Trumans Water,
Yaz,
Talk Talk,
Lyres,
Pantytec,
Black Bananas,
Monolake,
Todd Terry,
Desert Stars,
the Bar-Kays,
Jacques Brel,
Nico,
LL Cool J,
Pagans,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Scientists,
Dorothy Ashby,
Tropical Tobacco,
Urselle,
Bobby Byrd,
Pussy Galore,
Barbara Tucker,
Brick,
Susan Cadogan,
John Lydon,
Flamin' Groovies,
Marshall Jefferson,
Bobbi Humphrey,
the Human League,
Sight & Sound,
Eli Mardock,
DJ Sneak,
Eric Copeland,
The Leaves, The Leaves, The Leaves, The Leaves.
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.