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 Maldives and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise 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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 Michael McDonald 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 Jacques Brel to the crunk 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 Tubeway Army. All the underground hits.
All The Dave Clark Five tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kayak 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Pus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lyres,
Alice Coltrane,
Niagra,
Minnie Riperton,
Camouflage,
Peter & Gordon,
Pussy Galore,
Crime,
Arthur Verocai,
London Community Gospel Choir,
New York Dolls,
Bobby Sherman,
The Litter,
Cameo,
Mantronix,
Porter Ricks,
Jesper Dahlback,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
China Crisis,
Wire,
Camberwell Now,
the Soft Cell,
Hot Snakes,
Theoretical Girls,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Gories,
Cluster,
Blossom Toes,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Schoolly D,
The Dirtbombs,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Dead Boys,
Marvin Gaye,
Clear Light,
Bang On A Can,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Grauzone,
Crooked Eye,
The Doobie Brothers,
Altered Images,
Visage,
Mandrill,
New Age Steppers,
Tomorrow,
Sexual Harrassment,
Skaos,
Chris Corsano,
The Selecter,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Scientists,
The Slackers,
Deepchord,
Eden Ahbez,
F. McDonald,
Ronnie Foster,
Audionom,
the Sonics, the Sonics, the Sonics, the Sonics.
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.