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 Rwanda and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 Seoul and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Harry Pussy to the rock kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 John Coltrane. All the underground hits.
All Matthew Bourne tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Panda Bear 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Sisters of Mercy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nico,
Terrestrial Tones,
Moby Grape,
Harpers Bizarre,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Agitation Free,
In Retrospect,
Throbbing Gristle,
Mark Hollis,
Con Funk Shun,
The Slits,
Thee Headcoats,
Oneida,
The Gories,
Lindisfarne,
Inner City,
Mandrill,
Sonny Sharrock,
Young Marble Giants,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Wasted Youth,
Tommy Roe,
Brick,
Black Pus,
Robert Görl,
Ronnie Foster,
Wire,
The Last Poets,
The Misunderstood,
Gang Green,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Pretty Things,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Velvet Underground,
The Fortunes,
Brand Nubian,
JFA,
Dave Gahan,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Bobby Womack,
Kerrie Biddell,
Black Flag,
Radio Birdman,
Simply Red,
Fad Gadget,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Sam Rivers,
Malaria!,
Urselle,
the Bar-Kays,
Barrington Levy,
The Saints,
Sällskapet,
Junior Murvin,
Fela Kuti,
Loose Ends,
Smog,
Ken Boothe,
Excepter,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Joyce Sims, Joyce Sims, Joyce Sims, Joyce Sims.
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.