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 Ghana and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 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 Monks to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band. All the underground hits.
All Cluster tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pussy Galore record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Max Romeo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator 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?
Pharoah Sanders,
Zero Boys,
Jesper Dahlback,
Stetsasonic,
Hoover,
The Stooges,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Cameo,
Reagan Youth,
Lebanon Hanover,
Livin' Joy,
Jandek,
The Buckinghams,
Sun Ra,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Eric Copeland,
The Offenders,
Easy Going,
Scrapy,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Dirtbombs,
Sparks,
The Alarm Clocks,
Faust,
Roxy Music,
Junior Murvin,
Banda Bassotti,
Lucky Dragons,
The Remains,
The Five Americans,
The Monks,
Girls At Our Best!,
Andrew Hill,
the Soft Cell,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Doors,
Grauzone,
Suburban Knight,
T.S.O.L.,
Joe Finger,
Piero Umiliani,
Ituana,
Don Cherry,
Gang Gang Dance,
Jerry's Kids,
Eric B and Rakim,
KRS-One,
Sugar Minott,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Kerrie Biddell,
Average White Band,
Guru Guru,
The Neon Judgement,
The Angels of Light,
Silicon Teens,
Glambeats Corp.,
Make Up,
The Leaves,
Newcleus,
Swans,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Mummies, The Mummies, The Mummies, The Mummies.
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.