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 Sudan and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Sällskapet to the rock 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 Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane. All the underground hits.
All Country Joe & The Fish tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Index record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 an organ and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Pus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Flesh Eaters,
The Electric Prunes,
Marine Girls,
Harmonia,
Kayak,
Hashim,
The Leaves,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Rhythm & Sound,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Brothers Johnson,
DJ Sneak,
Stiv Bators,
The Index,
Ralphi Rosario,
Bobby Sherman,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Livin' Joy,
Fear,
Moby Grape,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Quando Quango,
Loose Ends,
The Names,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Smiths,
Matthew Bourne,
Interpol,
The Count Five,
Kas Product,
Second Layer,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Kaleidoscope,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Q and Not U,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Essential Logic,
Groovy Waters,
Bluetip,
Buzzcocks,
Dorothy Ashby,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Peter and Kerry,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Tubeway Army,
The Cramps,
Jandek,
Ultra Naté,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Con Funk Shun,
Symarip,
Gang of Four,
Man Eating Sloth,
Ice-T,
Procol Harum,
Chris Corsano,
Michelle Simonal,
Pylon,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Mo-Dettes,
The Busters,
John Holt, John Holt, John Holt, John Holt.
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.