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 Singapore and from Taipei.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 organ 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 Minutemen to the dance kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Lindisfarne. All the underground hits.
All The Wake tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Strawberry Alarm Clock record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Crime record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Prince Buster,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
kango's stein massive,
The Shadows of Knight,
Fear,
The Slackers,
Angry Samoans,
KRS-One,
8 Eyed Spy,
Ronnie Foster,
Minnie Riperton,
Motorama,
Zapp,
L. Decosne,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Ralphi Rosario,
Soul II Soul,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Alison Limerick,
Marvin Gaye,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Darondo,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
John Lydon,
Gil Scott Heron,
Mars,
The Litter,
The Blues Magoos,
The Alarm Clocks,
Bad Manners,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Warren Ellis,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Vogues,
Anthony Braxton,
Unrelated Segments,
Crooked Eye,
John Foxx,
Drexciya,
The Happenings,
Can,
Rod Modell,
Robert Görl,
Das Ding,
Electric Prunes,
Freddie Wadling,
Moebius,
Johnny Clarke,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Gladiators,
Dennis Brown,
Isaac Hayes,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Residents,
the Soft Cell,
Mark Hollis,
Saccharine Trust,
The Angels of Light,
The Black Dice,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Smog,
Supertramp,
Gang of Four, Gang of Four, Gang of Four, Gang of Four.
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.