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 Equatorial Guinea and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Wire show in Watford.
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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 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 The Buckinghams to the grime kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Popol Vuh. All the underground hits.
All Lightning Bolt tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every K-Klass record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Sisters of Mercy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Outsiders,
Soft Machine,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Graham Central Station,
Moss Icon,
Carl Craig,
Cameo,
The Searchers,
Frankie Knuckles,
Surgeon,
Oblivians,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Music Machine,
Rites of Spring,
Dead Boys,
Mo-Dettes,
Nils Olav,
Unwound,
Von Mondo,
Junior Murvin,
Procol Harum,
Mission of Burma,
The Modern Lovers,
Quantec,
Boz Scaggs,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Black Dice,
The Fugs,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Scott Walker,
These Immortal Souls,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Eric Dolphy,
Sandy B,
Arab on Radar,
10cc,
Rakim,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Toni Rubio,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Skriet,
Marine Girls,
Kaleidoscope,
Desert Stars,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Crooked Eye,
James White and The Blacks,
Sixth Finger,
Barbara Tucker,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Ultimate Spinach,
Isaac Hayes,
Vainqueur,
Peter & Gordon,
Patti Smith,
T. Rex,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Black Bananas,
The Sonics, The Sonics, The Sonics, The Sonics.
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.