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 Bhutan and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1967 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Terrestrial Tones to the punk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 a-ha. All the underground hits.
All Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Searchers 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Siouxsie and the Banshees record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Trojans,
X-Ray Spex,
Byron Stingily,
Warsaw,
Accadde A,
Fear,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Eli Mardock,
The Gories,
Freddie Wadling,
The Victims,
The Cowsills,
The Dirtbombs,
Terrestrial Tones,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Cymande,
Sixth Finger,
Yellowson,
Masters at Work,
Urselle,
Television Personalities,
The Associates,
Lebanon Hanover,
DJ Style,
Sex Pistols,
T.S.O.L.,
Jawbox,
Kool Moe Dee,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Flesh Eaters,
Drexciya,
Gil Scott Heron,
Bizarre Inc.,
Bronski Beat,
Curtis Mayfield,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Laurel Aitken,
CMW,
Peter and Kerry,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Dave Gahan,
Connie Case,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Bobby Hutcherson,
ABC,
The Gun Club,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The New Christs,
Cal Tjader,
Y Pants,
David McCallum,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Tremeloes,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Lungfish,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Skaos,
Crime, Crime, Crime, Crime.
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.