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 Ukraine and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Johnny Osbourne to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Crispy Ambulance. All the underground hits.
All Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Man Eating Sloth record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bill Wells record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Make Up,
Main Source,
Easy Going,
Neil Young,
Prince Buster,
Sparks,
The Slits,
The Gladiators,
The Music Machine,
John Cale,
Eddi Front,
Brick,
Stiv Bators,
Quando Quango,
Eve St. Jones,
Sun City Girls,
Drexciya,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Barracudas,
Wire,
The Gun Club,
The Trojans,
Johnny Clarke,
Marcia Griffiths,
Infiniti,
Crime,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
The Monks,
The Selecter,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Procol Harum,
Pantytec,
Marshall Jefferson,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Guru Guru,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Sam Rivers,
Mark Hollis,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Los Fastidios,
The Litter,
June of 44,
Thee Headcoats,
Motorama,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The Wake,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Angry Samoans,
Eurythmics,
Fifty Foot Hose,
X-101,
Michelle Simonal,
The Fuzztones,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Mission of Burma,
New Order,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Donald Byrd,
Glambeats Corp.,
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.