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 Saudi Arabia and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and London.
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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Alarm Clocks to the techno 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 Parry Music. All the underground hits.
All Robert Hood tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Steve Hackett 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Terrestrial Tones,
Lalo Schifrin,
Quando Quango,
Radiohead,
Q65,
Yellowson,
Nick Fraelich,
Althea and Donna,
Warsaw,
Bobby Womack,
Mark Hollis,
The Cowsills,
Basic Channel,
The Fire Engines,
The Beau Brummels,
Dorothy Ashby,
Don Cherry,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Gun Club,
David Axelrod,
Skaos,
Television Personalities,
Marvin Gaye,
Boredoms,
Harry Pussy,
Anakelly,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Pierre Henry,
Lightning Bolt,
The Fuzztones,
Gang Gang Dance,
Ultravox,
Bobby Byrd,
Royal Trux,
The Evens,
Fluxion,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
David McCallum,
Smog,
Magma,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Moleskins,
Newcleus,
Model 500,
X-101,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Divine Comedy,
Icehouse,
JFA,
Amazonics,
Sixth Finger,
ABBA,
Crime,
Monks,
Freddie Wadling,
Circle Jerks,
Altered Images,
Johnny Clarke,
Vladislav Delay,
Sly & The Family Stone, Sly & The Family Stone, Sly & The Family Stone, Sly & The Family Stone.
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.