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 Bosnia Herzegovina and from Glasgow.
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 1966 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 Michael McDonald 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 Chocolate Watch Band to the disco 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 B.T. Express. All the underground hits.
All Bauhaus tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Five Americans 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Avey Tare record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Model 500,
Swans,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Kerrie Biddell,
Amon Düül II,
Spoonie Gee,
Camouflage,
Crooked Eye,
Ituana,
Urselle,
Swell Maps,
Fugazi,
Magazine,
Television Personalities,
Cluster,
The Velvet Underground,
The Slackers,
Nirvana,
the Human League,
Nik Kershaw,
Drexciya,
Neu!,
Can,
Main Source,
Bill Wells,
Big Daddy Kane,
Joyce Sims,
Crime,
Sister Nancy,
Kerri Chandler,
Guru Guru,
Rosa Yemen,
Albert Ayler,
Theoretical Girls,
Robert Hood,
Slick Rick,
Faust,
Index,
James White and The Blacks,
The Pretty Things,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Dead C,
Marc Almond,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Howard Jones,
Darondo,
Make Up,
Ronan,
Ten City,
Pharoah Sanders,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Duran Duran,
Bootsy Collins,
The Saints,
Infiniti,
OOIOO,
Dual Sessions,
Yaz,
Half Japanese,
Spandau Ballet,
A Certain Ratio, A Certain Ratio, A Certain Ratio, A Certain Ratio.
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.