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 Gambia and from Manchester.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 The Golliwogs to the grunge 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 Magma. All the underground hits.
All Delon & Dalcan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Matthew Halsall record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 harpsichord and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eyeless In Gaza 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?
Laurel Aitken,
OOIOO,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Moby Grape,
Pussy Galore,
F. McDonald,
Robert Hood,
Johnny Clarke,
Lightning Bolt,
Duran Duran,
Cluster,
Sällskapet,
The Gladiators,
Kayak,
Vladislav Delay,
T.S.O.L.,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Fortunes,
Severed Heads,
Stockholm Monsters,
One Last Wish,
Minor Threat,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Pretty Things,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Skatalites,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Scan 7,
Boogie Down Productions,
Loose Ends,
Jacob Miller,
The Techniques,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Maleditus Sound,
Supertramp,
Iggy Pop,
Whodini,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Chris Corsano,
The Music Machine,
AZ,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Arab on Radar,
Funkadelic,
Liliput,
Quando Quango,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Electric Prunes,
Franke,
Dead Boys,
Nation of Ulysses,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Alice Coltrane,
Terry Callier,
Pulsallama,
Deakin,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
the Germs,
Little Man, Little Man, Little Man, Little Man.
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.