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 Iraq and from Edmonton.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 theremin 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 Arab on Radar to the rap kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Iggy Pop. All the underground hits.
All The New Christs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Brothers Johnson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Whodini 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?
Crispian St. Peters,
Joensuu 1685,
Bauhaus,
The New Christs,
Mandrill,
Liliput,
Con Funk Shun,
Lalann,
Motorama,
Hasil Adkins,
Lalo Schifrin,
Althea and Donna,
FM Einheit,
The Index,
Fad Gadget,
Fear,
The Knickerbockers,
Bill Near,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Khruangbin,
LL Cool J,
Aural Exciters,
Janne Schatter,
Derrick Morgan,
The Standells,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Cymande,
Sarah Menescal,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Tremeloes,
Suburban Knight,
Heaven 17,
New York Dolls,
The Red Krayola,
Joyce Sims,
New Age Steppers,
Arcadia,
The Monochrome Set,
Scion,
Amon Düül,
10cc,
Cheater Slicks,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Bang On A Can,
Bob Dylan,
Monks,
Average White Band,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Excepter,
Harry Pussy,
Cecil Taylor,
Ken Boothe,
AZ,
The Buckinghams,
The Searchers,
Johnny Osbourne,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
The Wake,
Wally Richardson,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Harmonia,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo, Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo, Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo, Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo.
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.