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 St Lucia and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 chamberlin 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 Black Bananas to the grime kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Grauzone. All the underground hits.
All Terror Squad Feat. Camron tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Au Pairs 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Selector Dub Narcotic record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eddi Front,
Byron Stingily,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Slick Rick,
the Normal,
Mad Mike,
Outsiders,
Camberwell Now,
One Last Wish,
The Dirtbombs,
Althea and Donna,
Moebius,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Wake,
Roxy Music,
The Techniques,
The Gun Club,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Index,
Crash Course in Science,
Joy Division,
Fear,
The Sound,
Howard Jones,
Amon Düül,
Pere Ubu,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Yusef Lateef,
Clear Light,
Altered Images,
The Busters,
Nick Fraelich,
The Star Department,
The Raincoats,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Ultravox,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Symarip,
John Foxx,
Juan Atkins,
The Mummies,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Jacques Brel,
Radiohead,
In Retrospect,
Inner City,
Ludus,
Blancmange,
The Doobie Brothers,
Brick,
Talk Talk,
The Barracudas,
the Bar-Kays,
The Evens,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Traffic Nightmare,
Lower 48,
Porter Ricks,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Magma,
Smog, Smog, Smog, Smog.
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.