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 Yemen and from Mexico City.
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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Y Pants 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 Television. All the underground hits.
All Bootsy's Rubber Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kool G Rap & DJ Polo 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Pus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mandrill,
Colin Newman,
Joe Smooth,
Ultimate Spinach,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Marmalade,
the Swans,
The Pretty Things,
T.S.O.L.,
The Martian,
Electric Prunes,
Slick Rick,
Cymande,
The Alarm Clocks,
Dead Boys,
Lalo Schifrin,
Underground Resistance,
Youth Brigade,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Misunderstood,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Yaz,
Altered Images,
kango's stein massive,
Quadrant,
Pantytec,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Tom Boy,
June of 44,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Infiniti,
Siglo XX,
Wasted Youth,
James White and The Blacks,
Fatback Band,
Lakeside,
D'Angelo,
Little Man,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Index,
Theoretical Girls,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Ituana,
New Age Steppers,
OOIOO,
Black Moon,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Sister Nancy,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
The Standells,
JFA,
Boogie Down Productions,
Wolf Eyes,
X-Ray Spex,
Y Pants,
Cheater Slicks,
Wally Richardson,
The Blues Magoos,
Idris Muhammad,
Brothers Johnson, Brothers Johnson, Brothers Johnson, Brothers Johnson.
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.