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 Mauritania and from Paris.
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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 the Normal to the grime kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Loose Ends. All the underground hits.
All Scratch Acid tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Gladiators record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tom Boy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Piero Umiliani,
Robert Wyatt,
The Fugs,
Outsiders,
Procol Harum,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
John Lydon,
Hasil Adkins,
Bauhaus,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Cure,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Gastr Del Sol,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Durutti Column,
F. McDonald,
The New Christs,
MDC,
Popol Vuh,
Mr. Review,
Nation of Ulysses,
Amon Düül,
E-Dancer,
The Neon Judgement,
Alice Coltrane,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Kayak,
The Trojans,
EPMD,
The J.B.'s,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Frankie Knuckles,
the Germs,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
David Bowie,
Lee Hazlewood,
Cheater Slicks,
Letta Mbulu,
The Litter,
The Barracudas,
Joy Division,
Moby Grape,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Angels of Light,
Technova,
The Victims,
Prince Buster,
The Busters,
In Retrospect,
Parry Music,
Johnny Osbourne,
Absolute Body Control,
Dave Gahan,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Leaves,
Das Ding,
Joyce Sims,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Walker Brothers, The Walker Brothers, The Walker Brothers, The Walker Brothers.
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.