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 Micronesia and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1969 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 spring reverb 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 The Buckinghams to the grunge 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 Vladislav Delay. All the underground hits.
All Vainqueur tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mary Jane Girls 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 harpsichord and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Public Image Ltd. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Gories,
Gang Green,
Adolescents,
the Germs,
The Buckinghams,
CMW,
the Normal,
The Names,
Neu!,
Matthew Halsall,
The Searchers,
Public Enemy,
Gastr Del Sol,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Magazine,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Charles Mingus,
MDC,
The Sonics,
Absolute Body Control,
Skarface,
Sam Rivers,
Crooked Eye,
Bob Dylan,
Aaron Thompson,
Zapp,
Ice-T,
Inner City,
Black Pus,
Mo-Dettes,
Michelle Simonal,
Desert Stars,
The Mummies,
Crime,
Arab on Radar,
The Blackbyrds,
the Association,
Fear,
Motorama,
Harmonia,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Cybotron,
Negative Approach,
Joy Division,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
ABBA,
Q and Not U,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Ken Boothe,
Amon Düül II,
Don Cherry,
Tres Demented,
Big Daddy Kane,
Reagan Youth,
Eli Mardock,
Hasil Adkins,
Swans,
John Holt,
Wasted Youth,
Albert Ayler,
Spoonie Gee,
Fugazi,
Lalo Schifrin,
Kings Of Tomorrow, Kings Of Tomorrow, Kings Of Tomorrow, Kings Of Tomorrow.
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.