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 Namibia and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the theremin 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 Nirvana to the punk 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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade. All the underground hits.
All John Lydon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Martian 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Inner City record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Girls At Our Best!,
Technova,
Black Moon,
Little Man,
The Alarm Clocks,
Motorama,
The Smiths,
Aaron Thompson,
the Slits,
Lou Reed,
Bizarre Inc.,
Lucky Dragons,
The Count Five,
Babytalk,
Rhythm & Sound,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Jawbox,
Urselle,
Flamin' Groovies,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Alison Limerick,
K-Klass,
Suburban Knight,
B.T. Express,
Robert Wyatt,
Hoover,
Ronan,
Moby Grape,
Janne Schatter,
Unwound,
Bobby Womack,
Barbara Tucker,
Arthur Verocai,
The Monks,
Kerrie Biddell,
June Days,
Nirvana,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Los Fastidios,
Soul II Soul,
The Slits,
The Cramps,
Television Personalities,
The Young Rascals,
L. Decosne,
The Gladiators,
Jimmy McGriff,
Ultra Naté,
Angry Samoans,
The Five Americans,
Piero Umiliani,
David Bowie,
Brass Construction,
The Fuzztones,
The Selecter,
Surgeon,
Duran Duran,
Sight & Sound,
Organ,
Blossom Toes,
Gregory Isaacs,
Gang Starr,
Youth Brigade,
The Moody Blues, The Moody Blues, The Moody Blues, The Moody Blues.
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.