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 Finland and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 snare 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 Lightning Bolt to the rap 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 Pierre Henry. All the underground hits.
All Minor Threat tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Youth Brigade record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Flesh Eaters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Vainqueur,
Charles Mingus,
Aswad,
Barrington Levy,
The Selecter,
Lyres,
H. Thieme,
Lebanon Hanover,
Easy Going,
Echospace,
cv313,
Joe Finger,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Slave,
Man Parrish,
Dead Boys,
James White and The Blacks,
Masters at Work,
The Doobie Brothers,
Magma,
Visage,
Lou Reed,
Eurythmics,
Fluxion,
Scrapy,
The Litter,
Parry Music,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Todd Terry,
the Association,
Susan Cadogan,
D'Angelo,
Bluetip,
The New Christs,
Freddie Wadling,
Lalo Schifrin,
K-Klass,
Subhumans,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Gerry Rafferty,
Roxy Music,
T. Rex,
Desert Stars,
Half Japanese,
Stetsasonic,
Livin' Joy,
Depeche Mode,
Idris Muhammad,
the Fania All-Stars,
Q and Not U,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Lindisfarne,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Minor Threat,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Todd Rundgren,
Bauhaus,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Sandy B, Sandy B, Sandy B, Sandy B.
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.