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 Rwanda and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1966 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Porter Ricks to the dance kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Arab on Radar. All the underground hits.
All Soft Machine tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Unwound 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 spring reverb and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Surgeon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Blake Baxter,
Barbara Tucker,
Jawbox,
Wasted Youth,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Fela Kuti,
Hasil Adkins,
Radiopuhelimet,
Traffic Nightmare,
Masters at Work,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Delon & Dalcan,
Electric Prunes,
Darondo,
The Pretty Things,
Suburban Knight,
R.M.O.,
Agent Orange,
Rapeman,
Nico,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Shoche,
8 Eyed Spy,
Janne Schatter,
Roxette,
Scratch Acid,
Accadde A,
MC5,
Reuben Wilson,
MDC,
Quantec,
Soft Cell,
Interpol,
Mission of Burma,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Groovy Waters,
Archie Shepp,
The Last Poets,
The Gun Club,
The Alarm Clocks,
Nik Kershaw,
Black Sheep,
Nick Fraelich,
The Barracudas,
Lee Hazlewood,
the Bar-Kays,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Talk Talk,
John Holt,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
James White and The Blacks,
Vainqueur,
The Techniques,
Dave Gahan,
Swell Maps,
Sister Nancy,
Joensuu 1685,
In Retrospect,
Harmonia,
The Neon Judgement,
Agitation Free,
Gang Green, Gang Green, Gang Green, Gang Green.
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.