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 Iran and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in 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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 Michael McDonald 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 Techniques to the crunk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel. All the underground hits.
All Public Enemy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Depeche Mode 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Be Bop Deluxe record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Agent Orange,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Monks,
Piero Umiliani,
Brothers Johnson,
The Sonics,
Stiv Bators,
The Doors,
Index,
Crispian St. Peters,
Franke,
Boogie Down Productions,
Circle Jerks,
Leonard Cohen,
The Tremeloes,
The Associates,
Aaron Thompson,
Stetsasonic,
China Crisis,
The Gun Club,
Spoonie Gee,
The Beau Brummels,
Flipper,
Todd Rundgren,
The Neon Judgement,
Pet Shop Boys,
Jeff Mills,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Aswad,
Malaria!,
Brick,
T. Rex,
Visage,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Y Pants,
Barrington Levy,
Ralphi Rosario,
Scott Walker,
Black Pus,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Selecter,
R.M.O.,
Spandau Ballet,
John Lydon,
The Human League,
Massinfluence,
Livin' Joy,
Joe Finger,
Pantaleimon,
The Durutti Column,
The Busters,
Joe Smooth,
Interpol,
Alice Coltrane,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Last Poets,
The Skatalites,
Byron Stingily,
Gil Scott Heron,
Jawbox, Jawbox, Jawbox, Jawbox.
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.