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 Zimbabwe and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1966 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Agent Orange to the funk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft. All the underground hits.
All Black Flag tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a ABC record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Symarip,
Buzzcocks,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Dead C,
Neil Young,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Skatalites,
Mantronix,
Gabor Szabo,
Lalann,
Wasted Youth,
Easy Going,
Arab on Radar,
Kaleidoscope,
Eden Ahbez,
the Swans,
Rekid,
Joy Division,
The Birthday Party,
the Human League,
Japan,
The Leaves,
Quadrant,
OOIOO,
Severed Heads,
Bill Wells,
The Seeds,
E-Dancer,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Black Sheep,
The Names,
Bizarre Inc.,
Sonny Sharrock,
Black Pus,
The Cramps,
Oneida,
Freddie Wadling,
The Martian,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Lou Christie,
Excepter,
Deadbeat,
Electric Prunes,
Tres Demented,
Cameo,
The Star Department,
AZ,
Soft Cell,
Radiohead,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Dennis Brown,
The Fuzztones,
Bush Tetras,
Scion,
Average White Band,
Sun City Girls,
F. McDonald,
Tom Boy,
Aloha Tigers,
Aural Exciters,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Suburban Knight,
Zapp, Zapp, Zapp, Zapp.
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.