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 Cameroon and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 oboe 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 The Count Five 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 Lungfish. All the underground hits.
All Porter Ricks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Soft Cell record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 synthesizer and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a LL Cool J record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
X-Ray Spex,
Royal Trux,
Monks,
Rapeman,
Prince Buster,
Nik Kershaw,
Angry Samoans,
The Evens,
Cameo,
Cluster,
The Five Americans,
Harry Pussy,
Y Pants,
Erasure,
Archie Shepp,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Fugs,
Black Flag,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
John Lydon,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Slackers,
Goldenarms,
Quando Quango,
Main Source,
Dawn Penn,
Alice Coltrane,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Rufus Thomas,
the Soft Cell,
Marine Girls,
R.M.O.,
Susan Cadogan,
June Days,
Oneida,
Joyce Sims,
Echospace,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Eric Copeland,
Connie Case,
Trumans Water,
Mission of Burma,
The Sonics,
Supertramp,
8 Eyed Spy,
Piero Umiliani,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Human League,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Albert Ayler,
Robert Hood,
Ten City,
Wolf Eyes,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Don Cherry,
Pole,
The Dead C,
Ohio Players,
Barbara Tucker,
U.S. Maple,
Gerry Rafferty, Gerry Rafferty, Gerry Rafferty, Gerry Rafferty.
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.