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 Tonga and from Cairo.
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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Martian to the punk 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 Anakelly. All the underground hits.
All The Associates tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jerry's Kids 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fugazi record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fluxion,
LL Cool J,
Gastr Del Sol,
Desert Stars,
Malaria!,
Yazoo,
The Walker Brothers,
Harry Pussy,
Girls At Our Best!,
Leonard Cohen,
T.S.O.L.,
Barrington Levy,
Talk Talk,
The Evens,
Black Sheep,
Lindisfarne,
Althea and Donna,
Audionom,
Minutemen,
the Soft Cell,
Aloha Tigers,
Ituana,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Accadde A,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Ossler,
The Detroit Cobras,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Television,
Susan Cadogan,
Dorothy Ashby,
Y Pants,
Lou Christie,
Funkadelic,
Pole,
The Fortunes,
Man Eating Sloth,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Soul II Soul,
Sam Rivers,
Jandek,
Curtis Mayfield,
Warren Ellis,
Q and Not U,
The Golliwogs,
In Retrospect,
Bang On A Can,
Andrew Hill,
Groovy Waters,
Bill Wells,
Supertramp,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Tom Boy,
The Smiths,
James White and The Blacks,
The Shadows of Knight,
Moby Grape,
Jacques Brel,
Neil Young,
Surgeon,
The Gladiators,
Sister Nancy,
Section 25, Section 25, Section 25, Section 25.
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.