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 Poland and from Shanghai.
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 1969 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Theoretical Girls to the grime kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Moleskins. All the underground hits.
All The Star Department tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Accadde A record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 a guitar and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Chocolate Watch Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rekid,
X-101,
Soulsonic Force,
Eric B and Rakim,
Quando Quango,
Barclay James Harvest,
Spandau Ballet,
Mars,
Henry Cow,
Hasil Adkins,
Idris Muhammad,
H. Thieme,
Sun Ra,
Pulsallama,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Suicide,
John Cale,
The Shadows of Knight,
U.S. Maple,
DJ Sneak,
Groovy Waters,
The Sonics,
Sarah Menescal,
Letta Mbulu,
The Last Poets,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Zero Boys,
Scan 7,
Kool Moe Dee,
This Heat,
Little Man,
Sex Pistols,
Hashim,
Mo-Dettes,
The Move,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Nirvana,
Index,
Althea and Donna,
One Last Wish,
The Happenings,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Offenders,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Section 25,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Vogues,
Fluxion,
A Certain Ratio,
Rapeman,
The Pretty Things,
Quadrant,
Tommy Roe,
Wasted Youth,
DNA,
Main Source,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Clear Light,
John Lydon,
Loose Ends,
Flamin' Groovies,
Pylon, Pylon, Pylon, Pylon.
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.