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 Saudi Arabia and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Joe Finger to the crunk 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 Crooked Eye. All the underground hits.
All Ralphi Rosario tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every ABC record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jerry Gold Smith record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Barrington Levy,
John Lydon,
Minny Pops,
kango's stein massive,
Supertramp,
Roxy Music,
B.T. Express,
Black Moon,
Rakim,
Bang On A Can,
The Selecter,
Ultravox,
Television,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Motions,
Rosa Yemen,
Accadde A,
The Cowsills,
Nation of Ulysses,
Make Up,
Drexciya,
The Fortunes,
Wolf Eyes,
Laurel Aitken,
Albert Ayler,
Parry Music,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Intrusion,
Shuggie Otis,
Unwound,
Spandau Ballet,
Fluxion,
The Dirtbombs,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Underground Resistance,
Scrapy,
Porter Ricks,
The Slits,
Saccharine Trust,
The Dave Clark Five,
Symarip,
The Slackers,
Black Flag,
Eric Copeland,
Joyce Sims,
Scion,
Gichy Dan,
X-102,
Organ,
June of 44,
Peter & Gordon,
Harry Pussy,
Arab on Radar,
Terry Callier,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Mojo Men,
Faust,
Lucky Dragons,
Stereo Dub,
Maurizio,
Hashim,
The Monochrome Set,
Ossler, Ossler, Ossler, Ossler.
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.