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 Peru and from London.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the guitar 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 Johnny Clarke to the electroclash 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 Schoolly D. All the underground hits.
All Sonny Sharrock tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sex Pistols 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Trumans Water record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wally Richardson,
Marshall Jefferson,
Rekid,
Adolescents,
Kool Moe Dee,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Sixth Finger,
Visage,
Big Daddy Kane,
June of 44,
Alison Limerick,
Skaos,
Minutemen,
The Remains,
The Fortunes,
Tomorrow,
The Durutti Column,
a-ha,
The Mummies,
K-Klass,
Ornette Coleman,
The Martian,
Khruangbin,
Buzzcocks,
Swans,
the Normal,
Todd Rundgren,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
This Heat,
Kayak,
Funky Four + One,
Massinfluence,
Reagan Youth,
Steve Hackett,
Boz Scaggs,
Brand Nubian,
Gerry Rafferty,
Soft Cell,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Desert Stars,
Albert Ayler,
The Searchers,
Gong,
Robert Hood,
X-101,
Yusef Lateef,
The Velvet Underground,
the Soft Cell,
Motorama,
Niagra,
Joey Negro,
Johnny Clarke,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Brass Construction,
Cecil Taylor,
U.S. Maple,
the Germs,
Minor Threat,
Livin' Joy,
Moebius,
Aswad,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Freddie Wadling,
Ludus, Ludus, Ludus, Ludus.
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.