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 United Kingdom and from Hong Kong.
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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the marimba 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 Crime to the punk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Morten Harket. All the underground hits.
All Traffic Nightmare tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Byrd record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 spring reverb and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a B.T. Express record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Joensuu 1685,
Ludus,
Cameo,
Parry Music,
H. Thieme,
James White and The Blacks,
Jacques Brel,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Saccharine Trust,
In Retrospect,
Pierre Henry,
The Fuzztones,
The Electric Prunes,
Average White Band,
the Normal,
Gang Gang Dance,
Black Sheep,
Warren Ellis,
Rotary Connection,
Icehouse,
Rufus Thomas,
The Red Krayola,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
David McCallum,
Chrome,
The Grass Roots,
Kool Moe Dee,
T.S.O.L.,
Heaven 17,
Pantytec,
The Buckinghams,
The Index,
Ituana,
Mo-Dettes,
John Foxx,
Soft Machine,
the Human League,
Lower 48,
Public Image Ltd.,
Ohio Players,
Man Eating Sloth,
Gang Starr,
Anakelly,
DJ Style,
Grauzone,
The Fugs,
Nick Fraelich,
Slick Rick,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Derrick Morgan,
Hasil Adkins,
Lucky Dragons,
Bush Tetras,
Kaleidoscope,
DNA,
Trumans Water,
Alice Coltrane,
Das Ding,
Dark Day,
Youth Brigade,
Rapeman, Rapeman, Rapeman, Rapeman.
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.