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 Bosnia Herzegovina and from Johannesburg.
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 1960 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Icehouse to the electroclash kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Jesper Dahlback. All the underground hits.
All The Fall tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ohio Players 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Masters at Work record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lungfish,
Prince Buster,
AZ,
Monks,
Arthur Verocai,
FM Einheit,
Delon & Dalcan,
Yazoo,
Interpol,
Loose Ends,
Young Marble Giants,
K-Klass,
Wire,
Tom Boy,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
U.S. Maple,
The New Christs,
The Associates,
Sun Ra,
Brothers Johnson,
Q and Not U,
Jeff Lynne,
Joe Finger,
The Raincoats,
Underground Resistance,
The Gories,
Duran Duran,
Letta Mbulu,
The United States of America,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Blues Magoos,
Icehouse,
The Monks,
Avey Tare,
KRS-One,
Funkadelic,
Nirvana,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Jeru the Damaja,
Cameo,
Scan 7,
Dorothy Ashby,
Pussy Galore,
the Sonics,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Zeros,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Gap Band,
Surgeon,
Lakeside,
Wolf Eyes,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Brand Nubian,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Quadrant,
Black Flag,
Rekid,
Bluetip,
Davy DMX,
Scott Walker,
Rufus Thomas,
Au Pairs,
Scrapy, Scrapy, Scrapy, Scrapy.
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.