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 Haiti and from Taipei.
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 1967 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 Holger Czukay 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 Fad Gadget 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 The Royal Family And The Poor. All the underground hits.
All Moss Icon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Magazine record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fire Engines record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Eve St. Jones,
10cc,
Cymande,
Ice-T,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
John Holt,
The Alarm Clocks,
Royal Trux,
Dual Sessions,
New York Dolls,
Mad Mike,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Tears for Fears,
Minutemen,
Lou Christie,
Radio Birdman,
Dead Boys,
the Slits,
Mandrill,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Avey Tare,
OOIOO,
Little Man,
Wolf Eyes,
Sonic Youth,
8 Eyed Spy,
Michelle Simonal,
The Red Krayola,
Cheater Slicks,
Camberwell Now,
Patti Smith,
The Slackers,
DJ Sneak,
F. McDonald,
Saccharine Trust,
Mantronix,
The Mojo Men,
Stockholm Monsters,
Echospace,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Martian,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Lindisfarne,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Soft Machine,
Ohio Players,
Arthur Verocai,
Severed Heads,
Crash Course in Science,
Los Fastidios,
Shuggie Otis,
DJ Style,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Joensuu 1685,
Siglo XX,
Moby Grape,
Don Cherry,
Cecil Taylor,
Lalo Schifrin,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The J.B.'s,
Roxette, Roxette, Roxette, Roxette.
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.