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 Antigua and from Bremen.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Zapp to the rap 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 Dead Boys. All the underground hits.
All Vainqueur tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Electric Prunes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 marimba and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Misunderstood record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Arthur Verocai,
Soft Machine,
Stiv Bators,
Gil Scott Heron,
Gregory Isaacs,
John Coltrane,
The Fugs,
Circle Jerks,
Big Daddy Kane,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Anthony Braxton,
The Vogues,
Black Bananas,
Country Teasers,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Josef K,
Boredoms,
Pantytec,
Jeru the Damaja,
Moebius,
John Foxx,
Barry Ungar,
Rakim,
Silicon Teens,
Magma,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Los Fastidios,
Prince Buster,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Cameo,
Funky Four + One,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Jacques Brel,
Camouflage,
The Red Krayola,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Neil Young,
Wings,
Alice Coltrane,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Livin' Joy,
Goldenarms,
Jandek,
Drexciya,
Easy Going,
John Holt,
Gang Green,
Subhumans,
Kaleidoscope,
New York Dolls,
Marine Girls,
Kas Product,
The Cowsills,
Altered Images,
Dead Boys,
Donald Byrd,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Cecil Taylor,
the Germs,
John Lydon,
The Durutti Column,
Morten Harket, Morten Harket, Morten Harket, Morten Harket.
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.