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 Estonia and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle 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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 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 Yusef Lateef to the funk 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 Gang of Four. All the underground hits.
All R.M.O. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Red Krayola 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Royal Family And The Poor record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fad Gadget,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
A Certain Ratio,
Infiniti,
Suicide,
Slave,
Robert Görl,
Dorothy Ashby,
Amazonics,
Fela Kuti,
Glenn Branca,
London Community Gospel Choir,
China Crisis,
Rotary Connection,
Cameo,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Pylon,
Jawbox,
Tropical Tobacco,
Sonny Sharrock,
Bluetip,
Jacques Brel,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Marvin Gaye,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Altered Images,
Masters at Work,
Vladislav Delay,
Cecil Taylor,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Schoolly D,
Roger Hodgson,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Connie Case,
Animal Collective,
The Index,
The Buckinghams,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Pop Group,
Jerry's Kids,
John Holt,
June Days,
Carl Craig,
Young Marble Giants,
The Doobie Brothers,
Black Pus,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Delon & Dalcan,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Dead C,
Wasted Youth,
The Cure,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Fuzztones,
Procol Harum,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Japan,
Junior Murvin,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Eli Mardock,
Grauzone,
The Birthday Party,
Drexciya, Drexciya, Drexciya, Drexciya.
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.