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 Denmark and from Johannesburg.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 güiro 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 Tears for Fears to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Terrestrial Tones. All the underground hits.
All Richard Hell and the Voidoids tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every June of 44 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 güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marcia Griffiths record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord 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 Cowsills,
Franke,
Joey Negro,
Tommy Roe,
Eurythmics,
The Blues Magoos,
Bobby Byrd,
Robert Wyatt,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Boogie Down Productions,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Saints,
Glambeats Corp.,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Sun City Girls,
L. Decosne,
Eric B and Rakim,
the Bar-Kays,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Raincoats,
Sight & Sound,
Sonic Youth,
Silicon Teens,
New York Dolls,
Depeche Mode,
Ken Boothe,
Royal Trux,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Black Sheep,
Hot Snakes,
Joe Finger,
Oblivians,
Quadrant,
Sun Ra,
John Cale,
Trumans Water,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Leaves,
Prince Buster,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Sexual Harrassment,
Brick,
Nik Kershaw,
The Knickerbockers,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Tremeloes,
Rapeman,
Agitation Free,
Ludus,
Ronan,
The Smiths,
Laurel Aitken,
The Cure,
Soulsonic Force,
ABC,
Fluxion,
Ponytail,
Chris & Cosey,
Amon Düül,
The Sonics,
Anthony Braxton, Anthony Braxton, Anthony Braxton, Anthony Braxton.
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.