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 Zimbabwe and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1963 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 spring reverb 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 Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch to the funk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Rod Modell. All the underground hits.
All Bang On A Can tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Divine Comedy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Circle Jerks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Icehouse,
T.S.O.L.,
The Sound,
Cheater Slicks,
Fela Kuti,
Nik Kershaw,
Slick Rick,
Adolescents,
Johnny Clarke,
Joe Finger,
Stiv Bators,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Terry Callier,
The Black Dice,
Unrelated Segments,
John Coltrane,
One Last Wish,
Man Parrish,
Roxy Music,
Ronnie Foster,
Bobby Byrd,
The Mummies,
Anthony Braxton,
UT,
The Flesh Eaters,
Sonic Youth,
Rosa Yemen,
The Knickerbockers,
Sixth Finger,
The Blackbyrds,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Young Marble Giants,
The Associates,
Spoonie Gee,
Yaz,
Avey Tare,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
In Retrospect,
Tubeway Army,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Harmonia,
Arab on Radar,
Trumans Water,
Marshall Jefferson,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Pretty Things,
The Shadows of Knight,
Grauzone,
X-101,
Ornette Coleman,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Kaleidoscope,
Lou Christie,
AZ,
Ultravox,
Eric Dolphy,
Radiohead,
Swell Maps,
The Standells,
The Neon Judgement,
Camouflage,
The Names, The Names, The Names, The Names.
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.