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 Hungary and from Toronto.
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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 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 The Electric Prunes to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Rahsaan Roland Kirk. All the underground hits.
All Gichy Dan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Faraquet 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Leonard Cohen record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
James White and The Blacks,
Hoover,
Godley & Creme,
F. McDonald,
Junior Murvin,
Cecil Taylor,
Mr. Review,
Minutemen,
Wings,
Infiniti,
Iggy Pop,
Ludus,
Boogie Down Productions,
Moebius,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Residents,
The Grass Roots,
Robert Wyatt,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Depeche Mode,
Rotary Connection,
Pantytec,
a-ha,
Ponytail,
Faust,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Moby Grape,
The Doobie Brothers,
Y Pants,
Monolake,
LL Cool J,
the Swans,
Funky Four + One,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Grauzone,
Barry Ungar,
The Durutti Column,
Country Teasers,
The Smoke,
Tropical Tobacco,
Metal Thangz,
Aswad,
Faraquet,
Dead Boys,
Blake Baxter,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Radio Birdman,
The Detroit Cobras,
Japan,
Simply Red,
Throbbing Gristle,
Johnny Clarke,
Shoche,
H. Thieme,
Nik Kershaw,
Kaleidoscope,
Cal Tjader,
Von Mondo,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Model 500,
The Vogues, The Vogues, The Vogues, The Vogues.
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.