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 Kazakhstan and from Glasgow.
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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 arpeggiator 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 Crooked Eye to the dance kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Tomorrow. All the underground hits.
All Lou Reed & John Cale tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cal Tjader record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a marimba 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 arpeggiator and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rhythm & Sound,
Banda Bassotti,
The Smoke,
Bootsy Collins,
Harpers Bizarre,
Ten City,
Marmalade,
Malaria!,
The Human League,
David Bowie,
Country Teasers,
Gong,
Henry Cow,
Black Pus,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Lebanon Hanover,
Eddi Front,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Wake,
The American Breed,
Quantec,
The Mummies,
In Retrospect,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Thompson Twins,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Soulsonic Force,
The Fugs,
The Grass Roots,
Roxy Music,
Kool Moe Dee,
the Normal,
Surgeon,
One Last Wish,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Kerri Chandler,
Fat Boys,
Main Source,
Siglo XX,
Amon Düül II,
kango's stein massive,
Aural Exciters,
Mad Mike,
Cal Tjader,
Roxette,
Barry Ungar,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Moody Blues,
Lindisfarne,
Eden Ahbez,
The Sound,
Rekid,
Deakin,
Cecil Taylor,
Supertramp,
The Modern Lovers,
Cybotron,
Joey Negro,
Ituana,
The Cowsills,
Drexciya,
Babytalk,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Durutti Column, The Durutti Column, The Durutti Column, The Durutti Column.
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.