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 Pakistan and from Stockholm.
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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 Sly & The Family Stone to the rap 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 Hot Snakes. All the underground hits.
All Jimmy McGriff tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fela Kuti 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tropical Tobacco record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Porter Ricks,
Shuggie Otis,
Sällskapet,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Nick Fraelich,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Ultra Naté,
Fear,
Soulsonic Force,
Intrusion,
Echospace,
Magma,
Kevin Saunderson,
Livin' Joy,
The Young Rascals,
Parry Music,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Ludus,
The Sound,
Mission of Burma,
Second Layer,
Theoretical Girls,
Skarface,
Clear Light,
The Beau Brummels,
Jeff Lynne,
Max Romeo,
Amazonics,
Bad Manners,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Pussy Galore,
Connie Case,
PIL,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Ossler,
Los Fastidios,
The Last Poets,
Joe Finger,
Grauzone,
Harmonia,
The Doobie Brothers,
Ralphi Rosario,
Zapp,
The Residents,
Dave Gahan,
Moss Icon,
The Pretty Things,
Inner City,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Sixth Finger,
Soft Machine,
John Cale,
Arab on Radar,
David Axelrod,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Colin Newman,
Ohio Players,
The Saints, The Saints, The Saints, The Saints.
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.