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 Montenegro and from Tokyo.
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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Can to the rap kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Kerri Chandler. All the underground hits.
All Ronnie Foster tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Maleditus Sound 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 a güiro and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review 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?
The Human League,
Cal Tjader,
In Retrospect,
Vladislav Delay,
X-101,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Electric Prunes,
The Mummies,
Nik Kershaw,
Bob Dylan,
Anakelly,
The Cramps,
Bauhaus,
World's Most,
Bronski Beat,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Birthday Party,
Aural Exciters,
Thee Headcoats,
Crooked Eye,
Pharoah Sanders,
B.T. Express,
The Leaves,
Rufus Thomas,
Reuben Wilson,
Massinfluence,
The Stooges,
Clear Light,
Scott Walker,
The Electric Prunes,
Janne Schatter,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Smiths,
The Gladiators,
Spandau Ballet,
Glambeats Corp.,
Delta 5,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Magma,
Eddi Front,
Dave Gahan,
The Durutti Column,
Barbara Tucker,
Nas,
Underground Resistance,
Lightning Bolt,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Pop Group,
Young Marble Giants,
Man Eating Sloth,
Index,
T.S.O.L.,
Tomorrow,
The Vogues,
Model 500,
Kas Product,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Fela Kuti,
Sixth Finger,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine, Major Organ And The Adding Machine, Major Organ And The Adding Machine, Major Organ And The Adding Machine.
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.