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 Monaco and from Seoul.
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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the oboe 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 James White and The Blacks to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Groovy Waters. All the underground hits.
All Derrick May tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Dead C 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Infiniti 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?
Circle Jerks,
The Invisible,
Rites of Spring,
Metal Thangz,
Dark Day,
June of 44,
Rakim,
The Pretty Things,
Heaven 17,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Lou Reed,
The Sound,
Agent Orange,
Ronan,
Spandau Ballet,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Sällskapet,
The Kinks,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
In Retrospect,
the Bar-Kays,
The Victims,
Joe Finger,
Laurel Aitken,
Henry Cow,
Mad Mike,
Anakelly,
Lucky Dragons,
The Grass Roots,
Wire,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Nirvana,
The Gladiators,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
a-ha,
Animal Collective,
Malaria!,
The Shadows of Knight,
Aloha Tigers,
Cybotron,
Stiv Bators,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Dave Gahan,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Smoke,
Eddi Front,
Morten Harket,
Talk Talk,
Yusef Lateef,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Fugs,
Carl Craig,
Chris Corsano,
Leonard Cohen,
The Saints,
The Dead C,
The American Breed,
The Beau Brummels,
The Names,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
New Age Steppers, New Age Steppers, New Age Steppers, New Age Steppers.
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.