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 Oman and from Tehran.
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 1960 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 oboe 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 Symarip to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Loose Ends. All the underground hits.
All Dead Boys tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Man Parrish 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a B.T. Express record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Spandau Ballet,
LL Cool J,
Matthew Halsall,
Banda Bassotti,
Spoonie Gee,
Scratch Acid,
Depeche Mode,
Rakim,
Bob Dylan,
June Days,
cv313,
D'Angelo,
Andrew Hill,
Hashim,
Harpers Bizarre,
Bad Manners,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Dirtbombs,
The Litter,
the Normal,
Dorothy Ashby,
Yusef Lateef,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Cure,
Eric Copeland,
The Knickerbockers,
The Selecter,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Dead Boys,
Bootsy Collins,
Ralphi Rosario,
Amon Düül II,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Lower 48,
DJ Sneak,
The American Breed,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Jesper Dahlback,
Visage,
The Fire Engines,
DJ Style,
Byron Stingily,
Tommy Roe,
Agitation Free,
Lightning Bolt,
Khruangbin,
The Neon Judgement,
Magma,
Ornette Coleman,
Scan 7,
Leonard Cohen,
New Order,
Warsaw,
Funky Four + One,
Jimmy McGriff,
Gong,
Pole,
Jacob Miller,
The Slits,
The Moody Blues,
Amazonics,
Johnny Clarke,
Roxy Music, Roxy Music, Roxy Music, Roxy Music.
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.