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 Colombia and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Beijing.
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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Jesper Dahlbäck to the grime 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 Severed Heads. All the underground hits.
All Scratch Acid tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dead Boys 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lou Christie record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
These Immortal Souls,
Infiniti,
kango's stein massive,
The American Breed,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Arab on Radar,
Grey Daturas,
Subhumans,
Inner City,
DJ Sneak,
Jandek,
Marshall Jefferson,
Reagan Youth,
Girls At Our Best!,
Fugazi,
Country Teasers,
Pantaleimon,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Invisible,
Marmalade,
Sugar Minott,
Alphaville,
The Mummies,
World's Most,
Gang Green,
Gil Scott Heron,
Barbara Tucker,
Spandau Ballet,
Susan Cadogan,
Mandrill,
Royal Trux,
The Music Machine,
Aaron Thompson,
Deadbeat,
Minutemen,
Sonny Sharrock,
Kevin Saunderson,
Rotary Connection,
Freddie Wadling,
the Fania All-Stars,
Mantronix,
Minny Pops,
Desert Stars,
Nik Kershaw,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Aloha Tigers,
Funky Four + One,
cv313,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Doobie Brothers,
Jesper Dahlback,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Techniques,
Lyres,
Second Layer,
Jacob Miller,
The Gun Club,
Anakelly,
Iggy Pop,
Boredoms,
Minor Threat,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Cameo, Cameo, Cameo, Cameo.
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.