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 Mozambique and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 oboe 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 Bobby Sherman to the punk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Kevin Saunderson. All the underground hits.
All Mission of Burma tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Hasil Adkins record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Monks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Banda Bassotti,
Sex Pistols,
Amazonics,
Unrelated Segments,
Dorothy Ashby,
Avey Tare,
This Heat,
Cecil Taylor,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Blues Magoos,
Intrusion,
Mantronix,
OOIOO,
The Kinks,
Sonny Sharrock,
T.S.O.L.,
Freddie Wadling,
Shuggie Otis,
T. Rex,
Eden Ahbez,
Saccharine Trust,
The Motions,
Ralphi Rosario,
Stockholm Monsters,
Kenny Larkin,
Hardrive,
Radiohead,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Lucky Dragons,
The Slits,
Skriet,
The Cure,
Janne Schatter,
Soul II Soul,
Marc Almond,
David Axelrod,
Radiopuhelimet,
Colin Newman,
Jandek,
Vladislav Delay,
Lee Hazlewood,
Royal Trux,
Skaos,
Yaz,
The Busters,
The Invisible,
Tubeway Army,
The Human League,
The Dead C,
Bad Manners,
Fugazi,
Sällskapet,
Dawn Penn,
Section 25,
JFA,
Frankie Knuckles,
Jerry's Kids,
Leonard Cohen,
Gang Gang Dance,
Cameo, Cameo, Cameo, Cameo.
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.