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 Bulgaria and from Columbus.
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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 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 Dark Day to the techno kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Isaac Hayes. All the underground hits.
All The Grass Roots tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Silicon Teens record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Buzzcocks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marmalade,
The J.B.'s,
Gang Starr,
Deakin,
Mr. Review,
Funkadelic,
Radiohead,
a-ha,
Archie Shepp,
Smog,
Sällskapet,
Black Pus,
The Skatalites,
China Crisis,
Flash Fearless,
Robert Wyatt,
The Selecter,
Stereo Dub,
Stiv Bators,
H. Thieme,
The Gun Club,
Deepchord,
Symarip,
Oneida,
Delta 5,
Brick,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Loose Ends,
Marc Almond,
Massinfluence,
Throbbing Gristle,
Jawbox,
Cybotron,
Jacques Brel,
June of 44,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Derrick May,
Thee Headcoats,
Rufus Thomas,
Ralphi Rosario,
Monks,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Slits,
Sight & Sound,
The Slackers,
Tom Boy,
Second Layer,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Pulsallama,
Cymande,
Black Moon,
Rekid,
The Cowsills,
MDC,
The Birthday Party,
Terry Callier,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Peter and Kerry,
The Kinks,
Flamin' Groovies,
Mary Jane Girls,
Neu!,
Hashim,
Brass Construction,
the Bar-Kays, the Bar-Kays, the Bar-Kays, the Bar-Kays.
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.