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 St Kitts & Nevis and from London.
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 1963 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band to the jazz 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 Alison Limerick. All the underground hits.
All Hardrive tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Reagan Youth 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a PIL record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bang On A Can,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Kurtis Blow,
The Last Poets,
Underground Resistance,
The Gun Club,
Rufus Thomas,
Moebius,
Tommy Roe,
Brand Nubian,
Ultra Naté,
Brass Construction,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
the Fania All-Stars,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Mr. Review,
Black Bananas,
Grey Daturas,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Oneida,
Yaz,
Crispy Ambulance,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Mojo Men,
Camouflage,
Mars,
Das Ding,
The Fire Engines,
Panda Bear,
Susan Cadogan,
Johnny Osbourne,
Kerrie Biddell,
Amon Düül II,
The Grass Roots,
Second Layer,
The New Christs,
Goldenarms,
Gang of Four,
E-Dancer,
Gang Green,
The Blues Magoos,
Parry Music,
T. Rex,
Rotary Connection,
Terrestrial Tones,
Pylon,
Tropical Tobacco,
Zapp,
Joy Division,
Adolescents,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Dawn Penn,
Bill Wells,
The Seeds,
John Coltrane,
Joe Smooth,
The Invisible,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Swans,
Angry Samoans,
Cecil Taylor,
Gerry Rafferty,
Sonny Sharrock, Sonny Sharrock, Sonny Sharrock, Sonny Sharrock.
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.