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 Laos and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Hong Kong.
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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Babytalk to the dance 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 Cluster. All the underground hits.
All Scratch Acid tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Alphaville record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 808 and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Josef K record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jeru the Damaja,
Gabor Szabo,
Johnny Osbourne,
Make Up,
DJ Style,
Brand Nubian,
The Divine Comedy,
Barbara Tucker,
Bang On A Can,
Negative Approach,
Vainqueur,
L. Decosne,
The Durutti Column,
The Shadows of Knight,
Tears for Fears,
Sugar Minott,
Roy Ayers,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Kaleidoscope,
Fatback Band,
Deepchord,
The Offenders,
Eli Mardock,
Cecil Taylor,
Lightning Bolt,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Oblivians,
Fela Kuti,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Cheater Slicks,
Young Marble Giants,
Warsaw,
Mandrill,
Todd Rundgren,
R.M.O.,
JFA,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Hot Snakes,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Techniques,
Interpol,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Jawbox,
Soft Cell,
New Age Steppers,
kango's stein massive,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Black Dice,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Henry Cow,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Lebanon Hanover,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Brothers Johnson,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Banda Bassotti,
Jimmy McGriff,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Cluster,
One Last Wish, One Last Wish, One Last Wish, One Last Wish.
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.