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 Malawi and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Wire show in Watford.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 harpsichord 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 T. Rex to the rap kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five. All the underground hits.
All Fort Wilson Riot tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crime record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 mellotron and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Offenders record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Television,
Aural Exciters,
Infiniti,
Sandy B,
Maurizio,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Girls At Our Best!,
Tubeway Army,
Peter and Kerry,
Severed Heads,
Crime,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Faraquet,
Sexual Harrassment,
Tres Demented,
Arab on Radar,
The Mummies,
Gong,
Radio Birdman,
Scott Walker,
Marine Girls,
The Real Kids,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Drive Like Jehu,
Rekid,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Youth Brigade,
Shoche,
Livin' Joy,
Chrome,
The Skatalites,
Nico,
Nils Olav,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Fad Gadget,
Country Teasers,
Bob Dylan,
Index,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Massinfluence,
Joyce Sims,
Pet Shop Boys,
Stiv Bators,
John Foxx,
Eric B and Rakim,
Sonny Sharrock,
Throbbing Gristle,
Sister Nancy,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Lee Hazlewood,
Kerrie Biddell,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Wolf Eyes,
Moby Grape,
Skriet,
Todd Terry,
Skaos, Skaos, Skaos, Skaos.
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.