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 Nicaragua and from Mexico City.
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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 New Order to the electroclash 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 Massinfluence. All the underground hits.
All Warren Ellis tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Symarip 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eyeless In Gaza record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
This Heat,
T. Rex,
Lou Christie,
Flamin' Groovies,
Jerry's Kids,
Los Fastidios,
Barclay James Harvest,
These Immortal Souls,
Terrestrial Tones,
Aaron Thompson,
Interpol,
Sandy B,
The Offenders,
Ohio Players,
Funky Four + One,
Japan,
Scrapy,
Khruangbin,
Gang Starr,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Newcleus,
the Sonics,
The Fortunes,
Bauhaus,
Tubeway Army,
The Fuzztones,
The Standells,
Circle Jerks,
Brothers Johnson,
Jacob Miller,
Bluetip,
Saccharine Trust,
The Barracudas,
Malaria!,
New Order,
The Star Department,
Simply Red,
Dawn Penn,
Man Eating Sloth,
Monolake,
Isaac Hayes,
Johnny Clarke,
Unwound,
Grey Daturas,
FM Einheit,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Peter & Gordon,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Scan 7,
Kool Moe Dee,
Pagans,
Scientists,
Section 25,
Steve Hackett,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Kevin Saunderson,
Thee Headcoats,
F. McDonald,
Howard Jones,
Sex Pistols,
Dave Gahan,
Zapp,
Nils Olav, Nils Olav, Nils Olav, Nils Olav.
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.