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 Mozambique and from Copenhagen.
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 1964 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Malaria! to the rap kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Harry Pussy. All the underground hits.
All The Evens tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Barbara Tucker record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Crooked Eye record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pulsallama,
DNA,
Dennis Brown,
Mr. Review,
The Tremeloes,
Jeff Mills,
Isaac Hayes,
Wasted Youth,
Minutemen,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
PIL,
the Bar-Kays,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Boz Scaggs,
The Leaves,
Roger Hodgson,
Terry Callier,
H. Thieme,
Franke,
Crime,
The Smoke,
Eric Dolphy,
Warsaw,
Traffic Nightmare,
Dawn Penn,
Andrew Hill,
The Standells,
Michelle Simonal,
Bobby Hutcherson,
T. Rex,
Guru Guru,
The American Breed,
Ohio Players,
Radiopuhelimet,
D'Angelo,
Altered Images,
Bob Dylan,
Yusef Lateef,
Piero Umiliani,
Q65,
The Skatalites,
Magma,
Joyce Sims,
Roy Ayers,
Wolf Eyes,
Simply Red,
The Trojans,
Duran Duran,
The Electric Prunes,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
the Soft Cell,
Kevin Saunderson,
Slick Rick,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Sexual Harrassment,
The New Christs,
L. Decosne,
X-102,
K-Klass,
Young Marble Giants,
Bobby Sherman,
Rhythm & Sound,
Juan Atkins,
Moebius, Moebius, Moebius, Moebius.
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.