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 New Zealand and from Stockholm.
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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Maleditus Sound to the funk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 The Cowsills. All the underground hits.
All Hardrive tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sound Behaviour 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 an oboe and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sister Nancy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Arthur Verocai,
Lower 48,
The Dave Clark Five,
Danielle Patucci,
The Invisible,
Crispy Ambulance,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Sexual Harrassment,
Pagans,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Moby Grape,
Marshall Jefferson,
Bad Manners,
Sex Pistols,
The Pretty Things,
Morten Harket,
Dark Day,
Symarip,
Con Funk Shun,
The Moody Blues,
Black Flag,
The Divine Comedy,
The Victims,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Wings,
Trumans Water,
Zapp,
Connie Case,
OOIOO,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Raincoats,
Surgeon,
Rapeman,
The United States of America,
The Skatalites,
Idris Muhammad,
Eddi Front,
Outsiders,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Arcadia,
K-Klass,
Silicon Teens,
Camberwell Now,
Bob Dylan,
The Buckinghams,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Lebanon Hanover,
Ultra Naté,
John Cale,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Litter,
Beasts of Bourbon,
the Germs,
Toni Rubio,
Desert Stars,
the Slits,
Ralphi Rosario,
Young Marble Giants,
Marc Almond,
Sunsets and Hearts, Sunsets and Hearts, Sunsets and Hearts, Sunsets and Hearts.
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.