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 Bahamas and from Halifax.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 oboe 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 The Real Kids to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Josef K. All the underground hits.
All Archie Shepp tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nik Kershaw record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 theremin and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sad Lovers and Giants record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Whodini,
Kool Moe Dee,
Suburban Knight,
Kayak,
Bang On A Can,
Flash Fearless,
World's Most,
Yusef Lateef,
Todd Rundgren,
Grey Daturas,
Robert Hood,
Grauzone,
Panda Bear,
Aaron Thompson,
Marc Almond,
The Beau Brummels,
Yazoo,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Black Pus,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Names,
Rakim,
Lakeside,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Monks,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Misunderstood,
Accadde A,
The Red Krayola,
The Fall,
the Human League,
The J.B.'s,
Sun Ra,
Sun City Girls,
Lightning Bolt,
Rites of Spring,
Cymande,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Cramps,
Eve St. Jones,
Gichy Dan,
Absolute Body Control,
Gabor Szabo,
Barclay James Harvest,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Barracudas,
Camouflage,
Traffic Nightmare,
Jesper Dahlback,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Liliput,
Symarip,
Ultra Naté,
Arthur Verocai,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Crispian St. Peters,
Loose Ends,
Lungfish,
Kenny Larkin,
Brothers Johnson,
U.S. Maple,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids, Richard Hell and the Voidoids, Richard Hell and the Voidoids, Richard Hell and the Voidoids.
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.