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 Belize and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Toronto.
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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the marimba 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 Grey Daturas to the rock kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Flamin' Groovies. All the underground hits.
All Wings tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fluxion 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Thee Headcoats,
Joyce Sims,
Mark Hollis,
Mary Jane Girls,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Eric Copeland,
Amon Düül,
Spandau Ballet,
Faraquet,
Cymande,
Babytalk,
Slick Rick,
ABBA,
Metal Thangz,
Crash Course in Science,
Crime,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Royal Trux,
The Gun Club,
Anthony Braxton,
Mr. Review,
The Count Five,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Jimmy McGriff,
Bobby Sherman,
Jacques Brel,
Tropical Tobacco,
Kerri Chandler,
The Real Kids,
The Seeds,
Gil Scott Heron,
Todd Terry,
Traffic Nightmare,
Severed Heads,
Tres Demented,
The Electric Prunes,
Newcleus,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Faust,
Andrew Hill,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Scientists,
The Human League,
Boz Scaggs,
The Fugs,
Marvin Gaye,
Brick,
Urselle,
Arcadia,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Pierre Henry,
Simply Red,
Lower 48,
Stereo Dub,
Lindisfarne,
The Trojans,
The Sound,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
F. McDonald,
Rufus Thomas,
James White and The Blacks,
Eve St. Jones,
Scrapy, Scrapy, Scrapy, Scrapy.
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.