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 Ukraine and from Toronto.
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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Robert Wyatt to the punk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Justin Hinds & The Dominoes. All the underground hits.
All The Move tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Absolute Body Control record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 synthesizer and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Glambeats Corp. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Henry Cow,
Minutemen,
The Birthday Party,
Delon & Dalcan,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Count Five,
Q65,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Blancmange,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Golliwogs,
The Beau Brummels,
Echospace,
The Angels of Light,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Pharoah Sanders,
Heaven 17,
Carl Craig,
Au Pairs,
These Immortal Souls,
Tim Buckley,
Boz Scaggs,
Sandy B,
Gabor Szabo,
Althea and Donna,
Jerry's Kids,
Letta Mbulu,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Icehouse,
Deepchord,
New York Dolls,
The Skatalites,
Bauhaus,
The Buckinghams,
Matthew Bourne,
the Germs,
Bill Near,
Pole,
Hashim,
Stiv Bators,
OOIOO,
The Cramps,
Joey Negro,
Television Personalities,
Barrington Levy,
Aaron Thompson,
Minnie Riperton,
Boogie Down Productions,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
The Sound,
Trumans Water,
John Holt,
Average White Band,
Sex Pistols,
Jeru the Damaja,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Symarip,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Lucky Dragons,
The Cowsills,
Eurythmics,
John Coltrane, John Coltrane, John Coltrane, John Coltrane.
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.