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 Ivory Coast and from Shanghai.
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 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 linndrum 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 OOIOO 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 John Holt. All the underground hits.
All The Cosmic Jokers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pole record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Coltrane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Motions,
Marine Girls,
Slick Rick,
Connie Case,
The Martian,
Black Pus,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Deakin,
Negative Approach,
Ohio Players,
Moss Icon,
Patti Smith,
Jawbox,
Talk Talk,
Nils Olav,
Babytalk,
Depeche Mode,
The American Breed,
John Holt,
Alton Ellis,
Davy DMX,
Chrome,
B.T. Express,
Eve St. Jones,
Lalo Schifrin,
X-101,
Nik Kershaw,
Q and Not U,
X-Ray Spex,
Jacob Miller,
Jeru the Damaja,
Gabor Szabo,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Toni Rubio,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Susan Cadogan,
Charles Mingus,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Dirtbombs,
Skaos,
Oblivians,
Barry Ungar,
Albert Ayler,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Smog,
Procol Harum,
a-ha,
Barclay James Harvest,
Minutemen,
Vladislav Delay,
Amon Düül,
Country Teasers,
Vainqueur,
Alice Coltrane,
ABBA,
The Red Krayola,
Porter Ricks,
The Blackbyrds,
Nirvana,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Liliput,
Max Romeo,
Andrew Hill, Andrew Hill, Andrew Hill, Andrew Hill.
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.