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 Kazakhstan 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 1965 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 rhodes 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 Public Image Ltd. to the jazz 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 Wings. All the underground hits.
All Japan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Dead C record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Durutti Column record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dark Day,
Buzzcocks,
Blossom Toes,
The Victims,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Josef K,
Lyres,
Angry Samoans,
E-Dancer,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Cure,
Animal Collective,
Sex Pistols,
Motorama,
Wasted Youth,
The Golliwogs,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Marc Almond,
Groovy Waters,
B.T. Express,
Cymande,
The Flesh Eaters,
Joyce Sims,
Barclay James Harvest,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Matthew Bourne,
Kurtis Blow,
The Human League,
Arthur Verocai,
Chris Corsano,
Basic Channel,
Pere Ubu,
Judy Mowatt,
Charles Mingus,
Kevin Saunderson,
Jacques Brel,
Outsiders,
Jandek,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Bobby Byrd,
Eric Copeland,
Peter & Gordon,
Erykah Badu,
Vainqueur,
Panda Bear,
Public Enemy,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Amazonics,
Con Funk Shun,
Quando Quango,
Can,
Monolake,
Bill Wells,
Slave,
Boz Scaggs,
Bluetip,
Big Daddy Kane,
Faust,
Whodini,
New York Dolls,
Brand Nubian,
Reagan Youth,
In Retrospect,
Dawn Penn, Dawn Penn, Dawn Penn, Dawn Penn.
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.