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 Mauritania and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Paris.
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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Roxy Music to the disco kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Leonard Cohen. All the underground hits.
All Quando Quango tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Sisters of Mercy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 oboe and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a X-102 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Henry Cow,
The Smoke,
Smog,
Crispy Ambulance,
Sex Pistols,
The Martian,
Derrick May,
The Victims,
The Fuzztones,
cv313,
Television,
Laurel Aitken,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Sixth Finger,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Essential Logic,
Niagra,
This Heat,
The Dirtbombs,
Inner City,
Stetsasonic,
Moebius,
Theoretical Girls,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Juan Atkins,
Skaos,
Eli Mardock,
Stockholm Monsters,
Bad Manners,
Gastr Del Sol,
June of 44,
Ludus,
Roxy Music,
World's Most,
Yaz,
10cc,
June Days,
Scrapy,
One Last Wish,
Slave,
The Angels of Light,
Liliput,
Sugar Minott,
Yazoo,
Soul II Soul,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Youth Brigade,
The New Christs,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Andrew Hill,
Quadrant,
Flipper,
Supertramp,
Magma,
The Cowsills,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Harry Pussy,
Von Mondo,
Groovy Waters,
Index,
Nick Fraelich,
Wasted Youth, Wasted Youth, Wasted Youth, Wasted Youth.
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.