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 Mexico and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1961 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Teenage Jesus and the Jerks to the techno 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 Kerrie Biddell. All the underground hits.
All John Cale tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Chocolate Watch Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 arpeggiator and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Gladiators record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Malaria!,
Swans,
John Cale,
Deadbeat,
Q and Not U,
D'Angelo,
Neil Young,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Man Parrish,
Country Joe & The Fish,
David Bowie,
MDC,
The Monochrome Set,
the Association,
Junior Murvin,
Davy DMX,
Alison Limerick,
Bill Wells,
Rekid,
Marine Girls,
Saccharine Trust,
Ronan,
Talk Talk,
Livin' Joy,
Los Fastidios,
The Happenings,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Walker Brothers,
Zero Boys,
Nas,
The Mojo Men,
The Blues Magoos,
Rites of Spring,
Ronnie Foster,
Bad Manners,
Cymande,
Susan Cadogan,
Niagra,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Outsiders,
Dorothy Ashby,
Schoolly D,
H. Thieme,
Television Personalities,
Jawbox,
K-Klass,
Big Daddy Kane,
Wolf Eyes,
Lindisfarne,
Max Romeo,
Mantronix,
Scion,
Black Pus,
Boredoms,
The Selecter,
Dark Day,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Blancmange,
Newcleus, Newcleus, Newcleus, Newcleus.
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.