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 Iraq and from Beijing.
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 1965 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Dead C to the funk 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 Trojans. All the underground hits.
All Matthew Bourne tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Sisters of Mercy 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Harry Pussy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
the Germs,
In Retrospect,
X-101,
Supertramp,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Section 25,
Dennis Brown,
Cal Tjader,
Black Sheep,
Ronan,
Excepter,
Barclay James Harvest,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Rufus Thomas,
Robert Wyatt,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Shadows of Knight,
Cluster,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Michelle Simonal,
These Immortal Souls,
Joy Division,
Q and Not U,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Y Pants,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Names,
cv313,
The Barracudas,
Lower 48,
Wings,
Grauzone,
Oblivians,
Joyce Sims,
The Knickerbockers,
Pylon,
The United States of America,
Barbara Tucker,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Suicide,
Pet Shop Boys,
Sexual Harrassment,
Von Mondo,
Harpers Bizarre,
Kurtis Blow,
Subhumans,
Soulsonic Force,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Wasted Youth,
The Fugs,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Rekid,
Ralphi Rosario,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Flamin' Groovies,
Jimmy McGriff, Jimmy McGriff, Jimmy McGriff, Jimmy McGriff.
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.