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 Marshall Islands and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Harry Pussy to the disco kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Masters at Work. All the underground hits.
All Yazoo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Boredoms record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 arpeggiator and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Robert Hood record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Cure,
Deadbeat,
B.T. Express,
The Seeds,
Q65,
The Selecter,
Hasil Adkins,
Lungfish,
Alphaville,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Vainqueur,
K-Klass,
Joey Negro,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Unrelated Segments,
The Invisible,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Section 25,
The Trojans,
Gerry Rafferty,
Zapp,
James White and The Blacks,
The Flesh Eaters,
Byron Stingily,
The Knickerbockers,
Lee Hazlewood,
Amon Düül,
John Lydon,
The Grass Roots,
Subhumans,
In Retrospect,
Laurel Aitken,
Echospace,
Tropical Tobacco,
Glambeats Corp.,
Arab on Radar,
Drive Like Jehu,
Procol Harum,
Swans,
Joe Finger,
Delon & Dalcan,
Don Cherry,
Roxy Music,
Scan 7,
David Bowie,
H. Thieme,
Gastr Del Sol,
ABC,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Radio Birdman,
The Blues Magoos,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Skatalites,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Leaves,
the Human League,
Fat Boys,
Bronski Beat,
The Golliwogs, The Golliwogs, The Golliwogs, The Golliwogs.
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.