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 Turkmenistan and from Delhi.
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 1964 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 guitar 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 Babytalk to the funk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 X-102. All the underground hits.
All Wally Richardson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 rhodes and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Dead C record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Curtis Mayfield,
Alice Coltrane,
Gerry Rafferty,
Joey Negro,
Erasure,
Dark Day,
Spandau Ballet,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Yazoo,
Lower 48,
The Blues Magoos,
a-ha,
Minnie Riperton,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Pharoah Sanders,
Livin' Joy,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Gang Starr,
Fugazi,
H. Thieme,
8 Eyed Spy,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Pylon,
Whodini,
Interpol,
Hoover,
The Index,
Dorothy Ashby,
Drive Like Jehu,
Youth Brigade,
The Blackbyrds,
Severed Heads,
The Fire Engines,
Unrelated Segments,
Matthew Halsall,
The Neon Judgement,
Charles Mingus,
The Searchers,
Kevin Saunderson,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
MDC,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Television Personalities,
Stetsasonic,
The Beau Brummels,
Mission of Burma,
the Bar-Kays,
Section 25,
The Leaves,
The Toasters,
Reagan Youth,
Accadde A,
The Cowsills,
Hardrive,
Morten Harket,
Ultravox,
Marc Almond, Marc Almond, Marc Almond, Marc Almond.
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.