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 Haiti and from Portland.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 clarinet 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 Aswad to the crunk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Avey Tare. All the underground hits.
All Gang of Four tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Justin Hinds & The Dominoes 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 organ and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Flipper record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Clear Light,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Funkadelic,
Black Bananas,
Arthur Verocai,
Lyres,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Fela Kuti,
Harpers Bizarre,
Hashim,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Camberwell Now,
8 Eyed Spy,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Sonics,
Soft Machine,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Count Five,
Danielle Patucci,
Radiopuhelimet,
Archie Shepp,
The Moody Blues,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
T.S.O.L.,
Magma,
James White and The Blacks,
Marc Almond,
Todd Rundgren,
Talk Talk,
Connie Case,
Pere Ubu,
Oblivians,
John Holt,
Gerry Rafferty,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Dead Boys,
Eric B and Rakim,
Simply Red,
Harmonia,
Stetsasonic,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
F. McDonald,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Alphaville,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Technova,
Fugazi,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Star Department,
Moebius,
Sparks,
Ten City,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Mars,
H. Thieme,
Henry Cow,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Mr. Review,
Dave Gahan,
Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment.
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.