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 Guatemala and from Stockholm.
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 1969 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 David Bowie 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 Red Lorry Yellow Lorry to the dance kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 X-Ray Spex. All the underground hits.
All Saccharine Trust tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Searchers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Chris Corsano,
New York Dolls,
Mars,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Throbbing Gristle,
ABBA,
The Monks,
Minnie Riperton,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Half Japanese,
Terrestrial Tones,
Alison Limerick,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Underground Resistance,
Black Flag,
Soft Cell,
Robert Görl,
Girls At Our Best!,
Crooked Eye,
Pylon,
Laurel Aitken,
The Move,
Harry Pussy,
Blossom Toes,
Stereo Dub,
Little Man,
Eric Dolphy,
Crime,
Sex Pistols,
T. Rex,
Danielle Patucci,
Average White Band,
Monolake,
Gil Scott Heron,
Quadrant,
One Last Wish,
Aloha Tigers,
U.S. Maple,
Pantytec,
Aaron Thompson,
Index,
8 Eyed Spy,
Sonic Youth,
Vainqueur,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Fugazi,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
a-ha,
Hot Snakes,
Arab on Radar,
Chris & Cosey,
Joey Negro,
Supertramp,
kango's stein massive,
The Seeds,
Terry Callier,
Albert Ayler,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Flesh Eaters,
Section 25,
Lou Christie,
Alphaville,
Japan, Japan, Japan, Japan.
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.