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 Guinea and from Bremen.
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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the organ 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 United States of America to the electroclash 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 The Saints. All the underground hits.
All Rosa Yemen tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every A Certain Ratio 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Moon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Circle Jerks,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
La Düsseldorf,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Main Source,
Colin Newman,
Franke,
Audionom,
Gabor Szabo,
The Last Poets,
ABC,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Gun Club,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Popol Vuh,
Section 25,
Soft Cell,
Bobby Womack,
Kaleidoscope,
The Fuzztones,
Ituana,
Das Ding,
The Associates,
DNA,
JFA,
The Alarm Clocks,
Darondo,
Steve Hackett,
The Velvet Underground,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Bob Dylan,
Ash Ra Tempel,
These Immortal Souls,
Bobby Sherman,
Lungfish,
Neu!,
Alison Limerick,
The Smiths,
Amon Düül,
Radiopuhelimet,
Mark Hollis,
Youth Brigade,
Symarip,
Joy Division,
Trumans Water,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
David Bowie,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Al Stewart,
Donald Byrd,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Selecter,
Deadbeat,
Electric Prunes,
The Names,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Magazine,
The Seeds,
Sun Ra,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
This Heat,
Jandek, Jandek, Jandek, Jandek.
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.