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 St Lucia and from Delhi.
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 1964 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the guitar 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 Pere Ubu to the crunk 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 Sandy B. All the underground hits.
All Scrapy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Interpol record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Slackers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Thompson Twins,
Duran Duran,
Rod Modell,
Fat Boys,
the Germs,
The Music Machine,
L. Decosne,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Outsiders,
Bill Wells,
The United States of America,
Man Parrish,
Joy Division,
Ronnie Foster,
Eddi Front,
Suburban Knight,
Bobby Sherman,
ABBA,
E-Dancer,
Sparks,
Brass Construction,
Stiv Bators,
the Swans,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Charles Mingus,
Prince Buster,
Joey Negro,
cv313,
The Associates,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Minutemen,
Moebius,
The Gun Club,
The Martian,
Clear Light,
The Remains,
Robert Wyatt,
Carl Craig,
Theoretical Girls,
Minor Threat,
a-ha,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Grass Roots,
Kool Moe Dee,
Khruangbin,
Boogie Down Productions,
Dave Gahan,
Mission of Burma,
the Soft Cell,
Eli Mardock,
The Moleskins,
Popol Vuh,
Max Romeo,
Brothers Johnson,
T. Rex,
Pole,
Jeff Mills,
Unrelated Segments,
Niagra,
Subhumans,
Warsaw, Warsaw, Warsaw, Warsaw.
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.