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 Gambia and from Lyon.
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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 snare 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 Scientists to the crunk 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 AZ. All the underground hits.
All Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sandy B 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Thee Headcoats record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Robert Görl,
China Crisis,
Dark Day,
Peter & Gordon,
The Smoke,
Youth Brigade,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Scion,
Johnny Clarke,
Morten Harket,
E-Dancer,
a-ha,
Bronski Beat,
Jacques Brel,
Minutemen,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Bill Near,
The Wake,
Gong,
Camouflage,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Dorothy Ashby,
Radiopuhelimet,
Andrew Hill,
L. Decosne,
Brick,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Visage,
Sister Nancy,
Rites of Spring,
Sun Ra,
Howard Jones,
The Evens,
Boredoms,
Thee Headcoats,
Gang Gang Dance,
Charles Mingus,
Surgeon,
Sonic Youth,
Nik Kershaw,
Leonard Cohen,
Yusef Lateef,
Saccharine Trust,
The Young Rascals,
Ten City,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Smiths,
ABC,
Pulsallama,
The Angels of Light,
David McCallum,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Roxy Music,
LL Cool J,
Aswad,
Duran Duran,
Joyce Sims,
Erykah Badu,
Black Flag,
Fluxion, Fluxion, Fluxion, Fluxion.
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.