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 Serbia and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Bobby Hutcherson to the techno kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Lou Reed & Metallica. All the underground hits.
All Franke tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Youth Brigade record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Blackbyrds record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Albert Ayler,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Niagra,
Heaven 17,
Darondo,
Ultimate Spinach,
Depeche Mode,
Warsaw,
Ultra Naté,
The Leaves,
Amon Düül,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Animal Collective,
The United States of America,
The American Breed,
The Trojans,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Mandrill,
The Gun Club,
Michelle Simonal,
Cecil Taylor,
Brand Nubian,
Sonic Youth,
Kenny Larkin,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Minor Threat,
Tomorrow,
Tres Demented,
Pantaleimon,
Jacob Miller,
World's Most,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Public Image Ltd.,
X-Ray Spex,
DNA,
DJ Style,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Deakin,
Supertramp,
Symarip,
Yazoo,
The Pop Group,
Panda Bear,
Ronan,
New Order,
Ludus,
Ornette Coleman,
Letta Mbulu,
The Flesh Eaters,
Boz Scaggs,
EPMD,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Unrelated Segments,
Brass Construction,
David Bowie,
The Skatalites,
Aswad,
Camouflage,
Smog,
Electric Prunes,
Black Bananas,
Eric Copeland,
Fela Kuti,
The Martian, The Martian, The Martian, The Martian.
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.