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 Papua New Guinea and from Sao Paulo.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Neon Judgement to the crunk 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 Ultimate Spinach. All the underground hits.
All The Alarm Clocks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fela Kuti record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Offenders record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Suburban Knight,
The Tremeloes,
Magma,
Eric B and Rakim,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Lower 48,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Buckinghams,
Crime,
Josef K,
Cal Tjader,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Fuzztones,
Gong,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Blossom Toes,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Doors,
The Red Krayola,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Flamin' Groovies,
Radiopuhelimet,
Yellowson,
Black Moon,
Harry Pussy,
The Index,
Curtis Mayfield,
Los Fastidios,
Shuggie Otis,
Lou Reed,
Bush Tetras,
Barry Ungar,
10cc,
Loose Ends,
Severed Heads,
Ultra Naté,
Sex Pistols,
Black Pus,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Section 25,
Black Flag,
Pantytec,
FM Einheit,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Eve St. Jones,
Ultravox,
Scratch Acid,
Judy Mowatt,
Sound Behaviour,
Saccharine Trust,
Visage,
Trumans Water,
Japan,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Jawbox,
Anakelly,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Minutemen,
Gang Starr,
Lindisfarne,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo, Kool G Rap & DJ Polo, Kool G Rap & DJ Polo, Kool G Rap & DJ Polo.
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.