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 Paraguay and from Columbus.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Calgary.
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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Eli Mardock to the punk 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 The Residents. All the underground hits.
All Boredoms tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sparks 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Funkadelic record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wally Richardson,
Lindisfarne,
The Black Dice,
Donny Hathaway,
The Detroit Cobras,
Urselle,
Theoretical Girls,
Joy Division,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Techniques,
Nick Fraelich,
Tears for Fears,
Intrusion,
Todd Rundgren,
The Fire Engines,
Marcia Griffiths,
Lou Christie,
Ralphi Rosario,
Cameo,
the Human League,
Sparks,
Lower 48,
Scientists,
Scion,
DNA,
The Saints,
The Kinks,
Scott Walker,
Roger Hodgson,
Wolf Eyes,
Alphaville,
Gichy Dan,
the Sonics,
The Dirtbombs,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Fat Boys,
Flipper,
Thompson Twins,
Moebius,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Pantytec,
FM Einheit,
Rotary Connection,
Delta 5,
Joensuu 1685,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Amon Düül II,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Harmonia,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Aswad,
Surgeon,
Bill Near,
Sugar Minott,
Panda Bear,
Deadbeat,
Yazoo,
Lungfish,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Mandrill,
Dark Day, Dark Day, Dark Day, Dark Day.
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.