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 France and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 Tom Verlaine 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 Grass Roots to the funk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Ossler. All the underground hits.
All Can tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rahsaan Roland Kirk record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Malaria! record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Soft Cell,
Average White Band,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
T.S.O.L.,
JFA,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Thee Headcoats,
The Doors,
Barrington Levy,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Marine Girls,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Doobie Brothers,
Donny Hathaway,
Ludus,
Deadbeat,
The Stooges,
The Count Five,
Amazonics,
Joyce Sims,
Matthew Bourne,
Visage,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Fugs,
Camberwell Now,
F. McDonald,
Unwound,
Pharoah Sanders,
Crispian St. Peters,
the Bar-Kays,
The Fortunes,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Roger Hodgson,
The Litter,
cv313,
Sex Pistols,
Quantec,
Stiv Bators,
Khruangbin,
Joe Finger,
The Move,
The Mojo Men,
Electric Prunes,
Icehouse,
Ohio Players,
Zapp,
Bootsy Collins,
Pole,
Heaven 17,
Jerry's Kids,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
These Immortal Souls,
The Victims,
Albert Ayler,
Underground Resistance,
Cameo,
Sound Behaviour,
Judy Mowatt,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Kinks,
Kas Product,
the Normal, the Normal, the Normal, the Normal.
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.