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 Burkina and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the guitar 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 Freddie Wadling to the grunge 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 The Toasters. All the underground hits.
All The Golliwogs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scientists 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 clarinet and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Zapp record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Yusef Lateef,
Chrome,
The Tremeloes,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Von Mondo,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Joe Smooth,
T.S.O.L.,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Tres Demented,
David Bowie,
Althea and Donna,
Subhumans,
Joy Division,
The Toasters,
Eric B and Rakim,
the Association,
Susan Cadogan,
T. Rex,
Interpol,
Arcadia,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Marshall Jefferson,
Kas Product,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Quando Quango,
Dave Gahan,
Quantec,
The Velvet Underground,
Saccharine Trust,
Joyce Sims,
Mo-Dettes,
Peter & Gordon,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Last Poets,
Stiv Bators,
Curtis Mayfield,
Newcleus,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Second Layer,
Pierre Henry,
Ponytail,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Sam Rivers,
The Stooges,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Shadows of Knight,
DJ Sneak,
Joe Finger,
Neu!,
ABBA,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Fugs,
Rapeman,
The Techniques,
The Knickerbockers,
John Holt,
K-Klass,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Barbara Tucker,
Qualms,
The Cosmic Jokers, The Cosmic Jokers, The Cosmic Jokers, The Cosmic Jokers.
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.