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 Tajikistan and from Lagos.
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 1968 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Milan.
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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Lee Hazlewood to the electroclash 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 Warren Ellis. All the underground hits.
All Rekid tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Unrelated Segments 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fluxion record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Gun Club,
Barrington Levy,
Gang Starr,
Soft Machine,
T.S.O.L.,
Mission of Burma,
Barbara Tucker,
The Fortunes,
Gang of Four,
Judy Mowatt,
The Flesh Eaters,
Panda Bear,
Cluster,
Intrusion,
Janne Schatter,
Kerri Chandler,
The Moody Blues,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Fat Boys,
Newcleus,
Ossler,
The Gories,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Pantaleimon,
Supertramp,
Section 25,
The Monks,
Joey Negro,
New Order,
Simply Red,
DJ Style,
The Selecter,
KRS-One,
The Tremeloes,
Al Stewart,
Danielle Patucci,
Trumans Water,
Sex Pistols,
Marine Girls,
Amazonics,
The Neon Judgement,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Toni Rubio,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Fluxion,
The Misunderstood,
The United States of America,
Angry Samoans,
David Axelrod,
Lalo Schifrin,
Young Marble Giants,
The Alarm Clocks,
Talk Talk,
Grey Daturas,
The Techniques,
Sugar Minott,
The Smiths, The Smiths, The Smiths, The Smiths.
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.