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 Jamaica and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 Echo & the Bunnymen to the rock kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five. All the underground hits.
All Deadbeat tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The New Christs 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Foxx record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Joey Negro,
The American Breed,
Masters at Work,
The Saints,
Jacob Miller,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Jerry's Kids,
Royal Trux,
Liliput,
Lungfish,
Kurtis Blow,
Cymande,
Freddie Wadling,
The Zeros,
The Dirtbombs,
Sarah Menescal,
Talk Talk,
Main Source,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Beau Brummels,
Unwound,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Ronan,
Slick Rick,
Black Bananas,
Rapeman,
Subhumans,
Eli Mardock,
Isaac Hayes,
June Days,
Minor Threat,
Fad Gadget,
Oneida,
The Happenings,
Porter Ricks,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Infiniti,
The Flesh Eaters,
Hasil Adkins,
The Velvet Underground,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Motions,
Connie Case,
Siglo XX,
Soft Machine,
Barclay James Harvest,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Leonard Cohen,
Sun City Girls,
Robert Hood,
Delon & Dalcan,
Oblivians,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Lalo Schifrin,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Searchers,
Goldenarms,
Lucky Dragons,
Anakelly,
Tropical Tobacco,
Mad Mike, Mad Mike, Mad Mike, Mad Mike.
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.