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 Croatia and from Stockholm.
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 1969 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Sixth Finger to the dance 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 Mars. All the underground hits.
All Ronnie Foster tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 a güiro and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Flesh Eaters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Metal Thangz,
Tubeway Army,
Blancmange,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Goldenarms,
Smog,
The Techniques,
Crooked Eye,
Q65,
Cecil Taylor,
Pulsallama,
Grandmaster Flash,
F. McDonald,
Suicide,
Delta 5,
Oblivians,
The Blues Magoos,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Ronan,
Surgeon,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Fuzztones,
Talk Talk,
The Barracudas,
Man Parrish,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Index,
Yaz,
The Buckinghams,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Star Department,
Minny Pops,
Can,
Whodini,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Fad Gadget,
Charles Mingus,
Wings,
Jerry's Kids,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Chrome,
Severed Heads,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Buzzcocks,
Toni Rubio,
Tropical Tobacco,
World's Most,
Monolake,
DJ Style,
Urselle,
The Stooges,
Altered Images,
Ohio Players,
Ken Boothe,
Marmalade,
Lou Christie,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
K-Klass,
Schoolly D,
Bronski Beat,
Hashim, Hashim, Hashim, Hashim.
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.