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 Zambia and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 snare 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 Names to the rap 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 Delon & Dalcan. All the underground hits.
All The Royal Family And The Poor tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Detroit Cobras 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scratch Acid record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Model 500,
Roy Ayers,
Fela Kuti,
Letta Mbulu,
The Detroit Cobras,
Echospace,
The Count Five,
Girls At Our Best!,
Neu!,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Divine Comedy,
Half Japanese,
The Happenings,
Todd Terry,
Gerry Rafferty,
Gang Starr,
Man Eating Sloth,
London Community Gospel Choir,
New Age Steppers,
In Retrospect,
Marcia Griffiths,
Joe Finger,
Infiniti,
The Dirtbombs,
The Red Krayola,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
X-102,
Kurtis Blow,
MC5,
Porter Ricks,
Wolf Eyes,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Joe Smooth,
Pylon,
These Immortal Souls,
Blancmange,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Move,
Excepter,
Sister Nancy,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Selecter,
Scrapy,
Sound Behaviour,
Chris Corsano,
kango's stein massive,
Carl Craig,
The Victims,
Young Marble Giants,
Talk Talk,
Mark Hollis,
Gregory Isaacs,
Terrestrial Tones,
Joy Division,
Urselle,
The Moody Blues,
Theoretical Girls,
Lalo Schifrin,
Black Bananas,
Public Image Ltd.,
Spandau Ballet,
The Slits, The Slits, The Slits, The Slits.
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.