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 the UAE and from Tehran.
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 1963 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Faraquet to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Tres Demented. All the underground hits.
All Magazine tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rosa Yemen record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mary Jane Girls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bobby Hutcherson,
Arcadia,
Niagra,
Grandmaster Flash,
Hoover,
Arthur Verocai,
Buzzcocks,
The Barracudas,
Eden Ahbez,
Supertramp,
Sällskapet,
The Standells,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Neil Young,
Mary Jane Girls,
EPMD,
the Fania All-Stars,
Howard Jones,
Soul Sonic Force,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Guru Guru,
Bang On A Can,
Bootsy Collins,
Urselle,
Robert Wyatt,
Black Flag,
The Golliwogs,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Barry Ungar,
The J.B.'s,
Max Romeo,
Man Eating Sloth,
Nation of Ulysses,
Yellowson,
Pierre Henry,
Brothers Johnson,
Dave Gahan,
Don Cherry,
Zero Boys,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Ultra Naté,
48th St. Collective,
Donny Hathaway,
The United States of America,
Malaria!,
Lalo Schifrin,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Neon Judgement,
Can,
Blossom Toes,
Qualms,
Idris Muhammad,
Intrusion,
Gerry Rafferty,
X-Ray Spex,
Man Parrish,
Siglo XX,
Danielle Patucci,
Janne Schatter,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Unwound,
Thompson Twins, Thompson Twins, Thompson Twins, Thompson Twins.
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.