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 Latvia and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle 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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 oboe 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 Lou Reed to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Magazine. All the underground hits.
All Little Man tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Count Five record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eden Ahbez record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Trojans,
Sight & Sound,
Mark Hollis,
Qualms,
The Knickerbockers,
The American Breed,
Pierre Henry,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Dead Boys,
Mandrill,
Bad Manners,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Gun Club,
Shoche,
Black Flag,
The Raincoats,
Mo-Dettes,
Roxette,
Marc Almond,
Ultravox,
Swell Maps,
Chris Corsano,
Eddi Front,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
OOIOO,
Roy Ayers,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Shadows of Knight,
Neil Young,
Hoover,
The Real Kids,
Byron Stingily,
Tom Boy,
Malaria!,
The Durutti Column,
Aaron Thompson,
June Days,
Section 25,
The Young Rascals,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Con Funk Shun,
Amon Düül,
Marmalade,
Bluetip,
Joyce Sims,
The Selecter,
Talk Talk,
Derrick Morgan,
Mary Jane Girls,
Piero Umiliani,
Cybotron,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
UT,
Gang Gang Dance,
Fluxion,
Infiniti,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Cheater Slicks,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Dave Gahan,
The Alarm Clocks, The Alarm Clocks, The Alarm Clocks, The Alarm Clocks.
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.