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 Brunei and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Cairo.
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 clarinet 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 The Fall to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 The Count Five. All the underground hits.
All Cecil Taylor tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pantytec record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Terry Callier record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
La Düsseldorf,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Scientists,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Bill Near,
Bobby Byrd,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Altered Images,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Alarm Clocks,
Chris Corsano,
Y Pants,
Cluster,
Pylon,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Hot Snakes,
Dawn Penn,
The Mummies,
The Gap Band,
Index,
The Vogues,
a-ha,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Minutemen,
Bush Tetras,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
LL Cool J,
Country Teasers,
The Fortunes,
Dual Sessions,
Joy Division,
Qualms,
Connie Case,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Golliwogs,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Velvet Underground,
Audionom,
Susan Cadogan,
The Monochrome Set,
Lindisfarne,
The Sound,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
OOIOO,
Simply Red,
AZ,
ABBA,
Das Ding,
Iggy Pop,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
New Order,
Rapeman,
John Lydon,
Funky Four + One,
Stiv Bators,
The Slackers,
Magma, Magma, Magma, Magma.
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.