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 Yemen and from Copenhagen.
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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 8 Eyed Spy to the dance 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 F. McDonald. All the underground hits.
All Jeff Mills tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Moon 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Johnny Osbourne record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ice-T,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Minor Threat,
Ten City,
Henry Cow,
Deepchord,
Bronski Beat,
Black Pus,
Lightning Bolt,
The Happenings,
The Selecter,
The Fuzztones,
Sarah Menescal,
Grey Daturas,
Yazoo,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Harpers Bizarre,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
This Heat,
The Dirtbombs,
The Last Poets,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Throbbing Gristle,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Chris & Cosey,
Byron Stingily,
Gang Green,
Model 500,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Monolake,
Bill Near,
Sister Nancy,
Black Flag,
Scrapy,
Nas,
Second Layer,
The Wake,
Roxy Music,
Roy Ayers,
Average White Band,
Nick Fraelich,
Symarip,
Slave,
Soft Machine,
The Kinks,
Swell Maps,
The Litter,
The Invisible,
10cc,
Blossom Toes,
Stiv Bators,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Motorama,
Chris Corsano,
Glenn Branca,
New York Dolls,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Flash Fearless,
Idris Muhammad,
Excepter,
Livin' Joy,
Japan,
Scott Walker, Scott Walker, Scott Walker, Scott Walker.
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.