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 Botswana and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1969 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 Tom Verlaine 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 Buzzcocks 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 Gian Franco Pienzio. All the underground hits.
All Skaos tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crime 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ronan record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rekid,
Intrusion,
Visage,
Sarah Menescal,
Pantytec,
The Gladiators,
Ponytail,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Barracudas,
Anthony Braxton,
The Seeds,
Harry Pussy,
Wings,
Crispian St. Peters,
Moss Icon,
The Toasters,
Kayak,
Sonny Sharrock,
Q and Not U,
John Foxx,
The Saints,
Vainqueur,
Janne Schatter,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Bang On A Can,
Flipper,
David McCallum,
Arcadia,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Soul II Soul,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Durutti Column,
The Blackbyrds,
E-Dancer,
The Fugs,
Chrome,
Porter Ricks,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Pole,
Liliput,
Echospace,
Kerri Chandler,
The Victims,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
New York Dolls,
Fatback Band,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Wasted Youth,
Davy DMX,
The Litter,
John Cale,
Unwound,
Bad Manners,
The Grass Roots,
Hot Snakes,
Roger Hodgson,
FM Einheit,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Slave,
The Human League, The Human League, The Human League, The Human League.
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.