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 Accra.
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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Cheater Slicks to the grunge kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Cecil Taylor. All the underground hits.
All A Certain Ratio tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eric Dolphy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 a guitar and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rhythim Is Rhythim record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Martian,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Fatback Band,
Adolescents,
Dave Gahan,
Eve St. Jones,
Jerry's Kids,
Bad Manners,
The Black Dice,
Zero Boys,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Ohio Players,
Pussy Galore,
U.S. Maple,
Bobby Womack,
Hot Snakes,
The Remains,
Infiniti,
Desert Stars,
The Victims,
Junior Murvin,
Bush Tetras,
Stetsasonic,
Public Enemy,
Peter & Gordon,
Suicide,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Wolf Eyes,
Yazoo,
Siglo XX,
Little Man,
Pylon,
Quando Quango,
Matthew Bourne,
Lalo Schifrin,
Boredoms,
Quadrant,
June of 44,
The Doors,
Marvin Gaye,
The Flesh Eaters,
ABBA,
Fugazi,
Severed Heads,
Sandy B,
John Foxx,
Rhythm & Sound,
Stiv Bators,
Sight & Sound,
The Move,
Eurythmics,
Camouflage,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Fuzztones,
Steve Hackett,
Bill Near,
Faraquet,
Yusef Lateef,
Big Daddy Kane,
Icehouse,
Kerri Chandler,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Aswad, Aswad, Aswad, Aswad.
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.