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 South Sudan and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Jacob Miller to the techno kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Louis and Bebe Barron. All the underground hits.
All The Litter tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Moebius 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Red Lorry Yellow Lorry record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Thee Headcoats,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Pylon,
Country Teasers,
Jeru the Damaja,
Fear,
Funky Four + One,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Zeros,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
John Foxx,
Sonny Sharrock,
Tears for Fears,
Jesper Dahlback,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Five Americans,
The Moleskins,
Half Japanese,
Harry Pussy,
The Cure,
Joy Division,
Fluxion,
The Red Krayola,
Soul Sonic Force,
These Immortal Souls,
The Techniques,
Stockholm Monsters,
the Sonics,
Visage,
The Alarm Clocks,
Theoretical Girls,
The Pop Group,
Skaos,
Joe Smooth,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Barracudas,
The American Breed,
Cybotron,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Bush Tetras,
X-102,
Robert Görl,
Mantronix,
Grauzone,
The Smiths,
Kerri Chandler,
E-Dancer,
Sexual Harrassment,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Alton Ellis,
Minor Threat,
The Angels of Light,
The Grass Roots,
Nico,
ABC,
Circle Jerks,
Tubeway Army,
Gang Starr,
Avey Tare,
Bill Wells,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme, Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme, Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme, Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme.
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.