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 Ecuador and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1961 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Toasters to the rap 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 Public Image Ltd.. All the underground hits.
All Kings Of Tomorrow tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Charles Mingus record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 clarinet and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ralphi Rosario record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Walker Brothers,
Ralphi Rosario,
Glenn Branca,
Goldenarms,
Sonny Sharrock,
Brick,
Cluster,
Tropical Tobacco,
Hardrive,
Black Moon,
Rites of Spring,
Gabor Szabo,
Amon Düül,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Altered Images,
The Human League,
Khruangbin,
Eden Ahbez,
Shuggie Otis,
Erykah Badu,
Gang Starr,
Alton Ellis,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Rapeman,
The Monks,
B.T. Express,
Marc Almond,
The Fire Engines,
Peter and Kerry,
Minnie Riperton,
The Knickerbockers,
Ultimate Spinach,
Mantronix,
Dark Day,
Roxette,
Vladislav Delay,
Jerry's Kids,
La Düsseldorf,
Cecil Taylor,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Shadows of Knight,
Stockholm Monsters,
Groovy Waters,
Pet Shop Boys,
Girls At Our Best!,
Kas Product,
The Smoke,
The Detroit Cobras,
Bizarre Inc.,
Grey Daturas,
Unwound,
Fugazi,
Pantaleimon,
Byron Stingily,
the Normal,
Pharoah Sanders,
Cal Tjader,
The Birthday Party,
Talk Talk,
Nico,
Make Up, Make Up, Make Up, Make Up.
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.