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 South Sudan and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 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 Marine Girls to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 New York Dolls. All the underground hits.
All The Jesus and Mary Chain tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Bar-Kays record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a MDC record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Suburban Knight,
Arab on Radar,
Marine Girls,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Barclay James Harvest,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
8 Eyed Spy,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Mission of Burma,
DJ Style,
Model 500,
Jacques Brel,
Delta 5,
Stockholm Monsters,
OOIOO,
Scrapy,
The Modern Lovers,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Hashim,
Joe Finger,
Aloha Tigers,
The Index,
Excepter,
Henry Cow,
Sällskapet,
The Young Rascals,
Sister Nancy,
The Blackbyrds,
Popol Vuh,
Panda Bear,
Bang On A Can,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Fire Engines,
Massinfluence,
Big Daddy Kane,
Thompson Twins,
The Busters,
Eden Ahbez,
B.T. Express,
Ken Boothe,
Robert Görl,
The Fortunes,
Sugar Minott,
Bauhaus,
Marmalade,
Black Flag,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Warsaw,
Moby Grape,
E-Dancer,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Bob Dylan,
The Last Poets,
The Martian,
Bobby Byrd,
Television,
The Shadows of Knight,
Interpol,
Dorothy Ashby,
Bootsy Collins,
Y Pants, Y Pants, Y Pants, Y Pants.
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.