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 Latvia and from Tehran.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
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 Barrington Levy to the rap kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Notorious Big And Bone Thugs. All the underground hits.
All The Monks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Make Up 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Model 500 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Barbara Tucker,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Echospace,
Dead Boys,
Hasil Adkins,
The Kinks,
The Beau Brummels,
Pantytec,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
UT,
Unwound,
Pussy Galore,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Radio Birdman,
Andrew Hill,
Gregory Isaacs,
Y Pants,
Stetsasonic,
10cc,
Jerry's Kids,
Harmonia,
Swans,
Big Daddy Kane,
Howard Jones,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Adolescents,
Goldenarms,
Jimmy McGriff,
Organ,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Jawbox,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Pagans,
Japan,
Slave,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Connie Case,
In Retrospect,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Black Dice,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Oneida,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Make Up,
Marmalade,
The Toasters,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Trojans,
Bad Manners,
Average White Band,
KRS-One,
Mandrill,
Lou Reed,
The Modern Lovers,
Letta Mbulu,
The Golliwogs,
Drexciya,
Q and Not U,
The Alarm Clocks,
the Swans,
The Red Krayola,
The Seeds, The Seeds, The Seeds, The Seeds.
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.