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 Liberia and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 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 Lalann to the punk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Kings Of Tomorrow. All the underground hits.
All Yazoo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Siouxsie and the Banshees record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a China Crisis record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ten City,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Second Layer,
The Sonics,
Pierre Henry,
Rapeman,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Searchers,
Von Mondo,
Quando Quango,
The Count Five,
The Star Department,
Glenn Branca,
Liliput,
The Slits,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Bad Manners,
Vainqueur,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Soft Cell,
Ornette Coleman,
The Skatalites,
Mary Jane Girls,
Roger Hodgson,
Subhumans,
Los Fastidios,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
the Swans,
John Foxx,
The Gap Band,
DNA,
Moss Icon,
Fear,
The Dirtbombs,
Bob Dylan,
Mark Hollis,
The Real Kids,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Funky Four + One,
The Monks,
The Martian,
The Young Rascals,
Barry Ungar,
Bang On A Can,
Dark Day,
The Zeros,
Massinfluence,
Ituana,
Procol Harum,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
London Community Gospel Choir,
OOIOO,
John Holt,
Iggy Pop,
DJ Sneak,
The Pretty Things,
Peter and Kerry,
U.S. Maple,
Soul Sonic Force,
T. Rex,
The Birthday Party, The Birthday Party, The Birthday Party, The Birthday Party.
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.