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 Germany and from New York.
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 1968 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 Tom Verlaine 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 Lou Reed to the dance 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 Dawn Penn. All the underground hits.
All The Saints tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Roger Hodgson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 linndrum and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Charles Mingus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Duran Duran,
Gil Scott Heron,
Mark Hollis,
Gang Starr,
Jawbox,
Panda Bear,
Parry Music,
Scion,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Sam Rivers,
Mission of Burma,
This Heat,
Mantronix,
The Selecter,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Prince Buster,
The Monks,
Marine Girls,
Fear,
KRS-One,
Lou Reed,
Roxette,
Index,
the Swans,
The Sound,
Gichy Dan,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Grey Daturas,
Joey Negro,
Tommy Roe,
The Durutti Column,
The Angels of Light,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Marc Almond,
Barclay James Harvest,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Moleskins,
Symarip,
Yellowson,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Buckinghams,
Echospace,
The Busters,
Ronnie Foster,
Yusef Lateef,
The Searchers,
Unrelated Segments,
Ten City,
Crime,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Radiopuhelimet,
Gerry Rafferty,
ABC,
Wings,
Livin' Joy,
D'Angelo,
The Doobie Brothers,
Flash Fearless,
John Holt,
The Cowsills,
Lalann, Lalann, Lalann, Lalann.
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.