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 Japan and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1965 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
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 Black Flag to the punk 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 Gichy Dan. All the underground hits.
All The Stooges tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Donald Byrd record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Peanut Butter Conspiracy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tim Buckley,
The Beau Brummels,
Rosa Yemen,
Kayak,
MDC,
Gerry Rafferty,
It's A Beautiful Day,
La Düsseldorf,
Anthony Braxton,
The Smiths,
Motorama,
The Alarm Clocks,
Hot Snakes,
the Swans,
Joy Division,
Malaria!,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Junior Murvin,
Blake Baxter,
The Kinks,
The J.B.'s,
The Smoke,
Urselle,
The Sonics,
The Gladiators,
Sex Pistols,
Faraquet,
Connie Case,
Wings,
Ituana,
Hardrive,
Steve Hackett,
Heaven 17,
Skarface,
The Fall,
Fela Kuti,
Dead Boys,
Mr. Review,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Morten Harket,
Tommy Roe,
Alphaville,
EPMD,
Tubeway Army,
Johnny Osbourne,
Marine Girls,
Technova,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Black Sheep,
The Cramps,
The Doobie Brothers,
Nik Kershaw,
Bobby Sherman,
Barbara Tucker,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Rod Modell,
Reagan Youth,
Yusef Lateef,
Kas Product,
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.