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 Andorra and from Columbus.
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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the snare 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 Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra to the jazz 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 Byron Stingily. All the underground hits.
All Yusef Lateef tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Babytalk record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Thee Headcoats record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Hoover,
Black Bananas,
Freddie Wadling,
Lalann,
David Axelrod,
The Cramps,
Erasure,
Kurtis Blow,
Bad Manners,
Talk Talk,
Godley & Creme,
Suicide,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
the Slits,
Brand Nubian,
Severed Heads,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Tears for Fears,
Ornette Coleman,
Sixth Finger,
Junior Murvin,
Second Layer,
La Düsseldorf,
Scott Walker,
The Names,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Steve Hackett,
Roy Ayers,
Clear Light,
AZ,
Barrington Levy,
Joy Division,
Radio Birdman,
The Techniques,
Danielle Patucci,
Angry Samoans,
Ice-T,
The Litter,
Mars,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Dawn Penn,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Prince Buster,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Pussy Galore,
cv313,
Black Moon,
Archie Shepp,
Minny Pops,
Jawbox,
Roxette,
Pere Ubu,
Todd Rundgren,
Crooked Eye,
Avey Tare,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Eli Mardock,
Shoche,
Tomorrow,
Scan 7,
Blake Baxter,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks, Teenage Jesus and the Jerks, Teenage Jesus and the Jerks, Teenage Jesus and the Jerks.
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.