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 Palau and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1964 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Bootsy's Rubber Band 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 Dark Day. All the underground hits.
All Talk Talk tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Terrestrial Tones 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Royal Family And The Poor record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Letta Mbulu,
Sam Rivers,
AZ,
Scion,
Morten Harket,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Dual Sessions,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Gories,
Rakim,
Mark Hollis,
Altered Images,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Fat Boys,
Bill Wells,
the Normal,
Lower 48,
Royal Trux,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Judy Mowatt,
Harry Pussy,
The Cramps,
Icehouse,
Scott Walker,
Joey Negro,
Eli Mardock,
Reuben Wilson,
The Modern Lovers,
Livin' Joy,
Magma,
Boz Scaggs,
Johnny Clarke,
Pulsallama,
The Slits,
Prince Buster,
Michelle Simonal,
Inner City,
Outsiders,
X-Ray Spex,
Ice-T,
The Last Poets,
The Divine Comedy,
June Days,
Camouflage,
Ponytail,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Stetsasonic,
Agent Orange,
Lungfish,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
PIL,
Susan Cadogan,
The United States of America,
Zapp,
Dark Day,
Underground Resistance,
The Seeds,
Donald Byrd,
The Remains,
The Monks,
Youth Brigade,
Lee Hazlewood,
Fad Gadget, Fad Gadget, Fad Gadget, Fad Gadget.
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.