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 Yemen and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 theremin 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 Bobbi Humphrey to the grime kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 The Cure. All the underground hits.
All Popol Vuh tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Maleditus Sound 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ohio Players record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tomorrow,
Marcia Griffiths,
Japan,
The Moleskins,
Rekid,
the Soft Cell,
Jerry's Kids,
Make Up,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Second Layer,
Steve Hackett,
Angry Samoans,
Sixth Finger,
Mandrill,
Bronski Beat,
Minnie Riperton,
Barry Ungar,
Kayak,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Kas Product,
Todd Terry,
Public Enemy,
Pussy Galore,
Sexual Harrassment,
Blancmange,
Nils Olav,
Hoover,
Adolescents,
Unwound,
Echospace,
Joy Division,
Radiopuhelimet,
Technova,
The Young Rascals,
Todd Rundgren,
B.T. Express,
The Fortunes,
Trumans Water,
Malaria!,
Sparks,
Livin' Joy,
Electric Prunes,
Goldenarms,
MDC,
The Mummies,
Tres Demented,
Vladislav Delay,
Reagan Youth,
Arab on Radar,
DJ Sneak,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Infiniti,
The Blues Magoos,
Little Man,
Country Teasers,
Man Eating Sloth,
Gang Green,
Cheater Slicks,
Smog,
Pantytec,
Sex Pistols,
Jerry Gold Smith, Jerry Gold Smith, Jerry Gold Smith, Jerry Gold Smith.
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.