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 Trinidad & Tobago and from Lagos.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 Move to the electroclash 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 ABBA. All the underground hits.
All The Saints tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gerry Rafferty record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 snare and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Iggy Pop record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lyres,
Accadde A,
Janne Schatter,
Saccharine Trust,
Stiv Bators,
Joensuu 1685,
Charles Mingus,
Wasted Youth,
Darondo,
Cheater Slicks,
the Human League,
Rotary Connection,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Bronski Beat,
Rapeman,
Radiopuhelimet,
Visage,
Massinfluence,
Bad Manners,
Henry Cow,
Danielle Patucci,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Donald Byrd,
Q65,
Television Personalities,
The Selecter,
The Red Krayola,
The Toasters,
the Germs,
Japan,
Dead Boys,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Bluetip,
Outsiders,
Mark Hollis,
Godley & Creme,
Buzzcocks,
Avey Tare,
Roy Ayers,
Letta Mbulu,
Skriet,
Crispian St. Peters,
the Fania All-Stars,
Tim Buckley,
Mr. Review,
Franke,
Bizarre Inc.,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Move,
Theoretical Girls,
Scan 7,
The Mojo Men,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Index,
The Gun Club,
Sex Pistols,
Los Fastidios,
Colin Newman,
Public Enemy,
Monolake, Monolake, Monolake, Monolake.
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.