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 Costa Rica 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 1965 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 linndrum 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 Lower 48 to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Chris & Cosey. All the underground hits.
All Anthony Braxton tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Yusef Lateef 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Pretty Things record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pagans,
Fluxion,
Average White Band,
Brothers Johnson,
Kerrie Biddell,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Man Parrish,
Maurizio,
Mantronix,
Blossom Toes,
The Birthday Party,
Minnie Riperton,
Saccharine Trust,
Severed Heads,
Echospace,
The Alarm Clocks,
Neil Young,
Pere Ubu,
The Beau Brummels,
The Fall,
Althea and Donna,
Vainqueur,
OOIOO,
Simply Red,
UT,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Gastr Del Sol,
Clear Light,
Agitation Free,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Marc Almond,
Toni Rubio,
Nas,
Tomorrow,
Bill Wells,
Slick Rick,
Suicide,
The Golliwogs,
Glenn Branca,
The Offenders,
Isaac Hayes,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Mandrill,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Boz Scaggs,
Crooked Eye,
Blake Baxter,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Half Japanese,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Idris Muhammad,
The Smiths,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Con Funk Shun,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Joe Finger,
Juan Atkins,
Tears for Fears, Tears for Fears, Tears for Fears, Tears for Fears.
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.