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 Eritrea and from Mumbai.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Toronto.
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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Fat Boys to the disco 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 Boogie Down Productions. All the underground hits.
All David McCallum tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Warren Ellis record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Hoover,
Sonic Youth,
Harry Pussy,
The Star Department,
Quadrant,
Joe Finger,
Rekid,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Marmalade,
Oblivians,
Tres Demented,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Velvet Underground,
Slave,
Cal Tjader,
Eric Copeland,
Eve St. Jones,
The Busters,
The Index,
Unwound,
Crispy Ambulance,
Icehouse,
Roy Ayers,
Monolake,
The Martian,
Television Personalities,
the Sonics,
Little Man,
Marc Almond,
Hasil Adkins,
Royal Trux,
Charles Mingus,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Donald Byrd,
the Fania All-Stars,
Peter and Kerry,
LL Cool J,
The Barracudas,
Lalann,
Marine Girls,
D'Angelo,
The Remains,
Los Fastidios,
the Soft Cell,
Juan Atkins,
Country Teasers,
Ultimate Spinach,
the Bar-Kays,
F. McDonald,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Soft Machine,
Ludus,
Crime,
Q and Not U,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Skriet,
Black Flag,
Funkadelic,
Livin' Joy,
Dead Boys,
R.M.O.,
Y Pants, Y Pants, Y Pants, Y Pants.
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.