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 Colombia and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Malaria! to the disco kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 The Modern Lovers. All the underground hits.
All Fifty Foot Hose tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Monks 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Television Personalities record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Barry Ungar,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Music Machine,
Young Marble Giants,
Brothers Johnson,
Reuben Wilson,
U.S. Maple,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Laurel Aitken,
Aloha Tigers,
Nirvana,
Bronski Beat,
Camouflage,
Minor Threat,
The Dirtbombs,
John Holt,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Surgeon,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Y Pants,
Basic Channel,
The Gap Band,
The Durutti Column,
Leonard Cohen,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Heaven 17,
Mantronix,
Magma,
Curtis Mayfield,
Wings,
The Victims,
Supertramp,
Black Pus,
Rotary Connection,
Pagans,
The Real Kids,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Yazoo,
The New Christs,
Iggy Pop,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Blackbyrds,
Royal Trux,
Archie Shepp,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Barracudas,
Jerry's Kids,
A Certain Ratio,
The Dave Clark Five,
Darondo,
T. Rex,
The Sound,
Lalo Schifrin,
Howard Jones,
Gang of Four,
Radiopuhelimet,
Chrome,
X-Ray Spex,
Lee Hazlewood,
Ponytail, Ponytail, Ponytail, Ponytail.
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.