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 Haiti and from Milan.
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 1969 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Harpers Bizarre to the electroclash 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 Bob Dylan. All the underground hits.
All Oneida tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every UT record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 guitar and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Whodini record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ultravox,
Panda Bear,
Eric Dolphy,
Khruangbin,
Marcia Griffiths,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Amon Düül,
Intrusion,
The Dave Clark Five,
Adolescents,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Magma,
Susan Cadogan,
Shuggie Otis,
Gichy Dan,
Faust,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Sam Rivers,
Scott Walker,
Dead Boys,
Isaac Hayes,
The Victims,
Maleditus Sound,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Barracudas,
The Durutti Column,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Thee Headcoats,
Darondo,
Von Mondo,
Ituana,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Unwound,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Q and Not U,
Rapeman,
Bobby Byrd,
The Black Dice,
Bush Tetras,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Gregory Isaacs,
the Sonics,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
H. Thieme,
Agent Orange,
John Holt,
D'Angelo,
Pierre Henry,
The Shadows of Knight,
Jawbox,
Little Man,
The Cramps,
Gang Starr,
Sound Behaviour,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Howard Jones,
Radio Birdman,
Gil Scott Heron,
Zapp,
Rekid, Rekid, Rekid, Rekid.
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.