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 Papua New Guinea and from Mexico City.
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 1965 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Techniques to the grunge kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Subhumans. All the underground hits.
All Slick Rick tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mad Mike 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
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 Byron Stingily record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Real Kids,
Monks,
Lindisfarne,
The Gladiators,
Dawn Penn,
Procol Harum,
Glambeats Corp.,
Absolute Body Control,
Easy Going,
Idris Muhammad,
Supertramp,
FM Einheit,
Joensuu 1685,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Spandau Ballet,
The Victims,
Sex Pistols,
JFA,
Barrington Levy,
Eden Ahbez,
F. McDonald,
Jerry's Kids,
Grandmaster Flash,
Graham Central Station,
Electric Prunes,
Sonic Youth,
The Velvet Underground,
kango's stein massive,
Magazine,
Loose Ends,
Rosa Yemen,
Black Moon,
Funky Four + One,
Kenny Larkin,
Audionom,
Fugazi,
Zero Boys,
Dark Day,
L. Decosne,
the Normal,
Marvin Gaye,
Sun City Girls,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Mummies,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Last Poets,
Mo-Dettes,
The Neon Judgement,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Charles Mingus,
Black Bananas,
Chris & Cosey,
The Slackers,
Alice Coltrane,
The Mojo Men,
The Sound,
Cluster,
Brothers Johnson,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Fortunes,
New York Dolls, New York Dolls, New York Dolls, New York Dolls.
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.