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 Lithuania and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle 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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Toronto.
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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 The Invisible to the grunge 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 Y Pants. All the underground hits.
All Niagra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Simply Red record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lyres record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Remains,
Public Image Ltd.,
Wolf Eyes,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Crispy Ambulance,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Jacob Miller,
Can,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Television,
Hashim,
Chris Corsano,
Surgeon,
Niagra,
Excepter,
Fear,
The Martian,
Girls At Our Best!,
Arcadia,
Roxy Music,
Eve St. Jones,
The Searchers,
Johnny Clarke,
Ice-T,
The Happenings,
Flipper,
Dorothy Ashby,
Freddie Wadling,
OOIOO,
R.M.O.,
Sister Nancy,
Jacques Brel,
Hasil Adkins,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Cymande,
Crooked Eye,
the Normal,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Mojo Men,
Fela Kuti,
Moby Grape,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Easy Going,
Mantronix,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Dirtbombs,
The Red Krayola,
New Order,
Lyres,
Amon Düül,
Terry Callier,
Neu!,
Michelle Simonal,
Warren Ellis,
Gabor Szabo, Gabor Szabo, Gabor Szabo, Gabor Szabo.
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.