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 Jakarta.
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 1969 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Stooges to the jazz kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Matthew Bourne. All the underground hits.
All Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kevin Saunderson 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rhythm & Sound record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Raincoats,
The Invisible,
8 Eyed Spy,
Lucky Dragons,
The Seeds,
Lee Hazlewood,
Lakeside,
Deadbeat,
Angry Samoans,
The Birthday Party,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
June Days,
The Move,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
DNA,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Jacob Miller,
Erykah Badu,
Sam Rivers,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Mantronix,
Peter and Kerry,
Cal Tjader,
Morten Harket,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Absolute Body Control,
John Coltrane,
Siglo XX,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Andrew Hill,
Warren Ellis,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Massinfluence,
Swans,
The Trojans,
Suicide,
John Cale,
DJ Sneak,
Marmalade,
Ossler,
Glenn Branca,
Man Parrish,
Monks,
Royal Trux,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Goldenarms,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Funkadelic,
Black Flag,
Aswad,
E-Dancer,
Brothers Johnson,
Spoonie Gee,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Supertramp, Supertramp, Supertramp, Supertramp.
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.