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 Woodstock.
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 1962 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Letta Mbulu to the rap kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Suburban Knight. All the underground hits.
All Vladislav Delay tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Major Organ And The Adding Machine record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Intrusion record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
L. Decosne,
Crooked Eye,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Robert Görl,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Cybotron,
Guru Guru,
X-102,
Harmonia,
Marmalade,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Smoke,
The Knickerbockers,
8 Eyed Spy,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Buckinghams,
Wings,
The Dirtbombs,
Lee Hazlewood,
Porter Ricks,
The Residents,
The Electric Prunes,
The Monochrome Set,
The Detroit Cobras,
Lebanon Hanover,
Mo-Dettes,
The Seeds,
Yusef Lateef,
Minutemen,
Erasure,
Procol Harum,
Minny Pops,
Das Ding,
Minnie Riperton,
Parry Music,
Sex Pistols,
Aloha Tigers,
Schoolly D,
Nils Olav,
Soft Machine,
PIL,
Neu!,
Leonard Cohen,
Soulsonic Force,
Nas,
New York Dolls,
Lightning Bolt,
Erykah Badu,
Jawbox,
Warren Ellis,
The Victims,
Agitation Free,
The Gun Club,
Prince Buster,
Ronan,
The Shadows of Knight,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
the Fania All-Stars,
Rosa Yemen,
Symarip,
The Sound,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Gang Starr,
The Standells, The Standells, The Standells, The Standells.
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.