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 Manchester.
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 1969 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 guitar 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 Ornette Coleman to the dance kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 The Neon Judgement. All the underground hits.
All The Monks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Reagan Youth record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cecil Taylor record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rapeman,
The Sonics,
Roger Hodgson,
Monks,
Pere Ubu,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Fall,
Barrington Levy,
The Beau Brummels,
Prince Buster,
Gong,
Inner City,
Lyres,
Fad Gadget,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Amon Düül II,
Altered Images,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
the Association,
Curtis Mayfield,
Johnny Osbourne,
Henry Cow,
Camberwell Now,
Dave Gahan,
Quadrant,
Bluetip,
Groovy Waters,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Joensuu 1685,
John Coltrane,
A Certain Ratio,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Supertramp,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
H. Thieme,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Johnny Clarke,
Jacques Brel,
The Busters,
Crime,
Matthew Bourne,
The Zeros,
Robert Hood,
Sight & Sound,
Bill Wells,
Agent Orange,
T. Rex,
Gang Starr,
The Gories,
The Vogues,
Sugar Minott,
The Mummies,
Ralphi Rosario,
Mo-Dettes,
The Victims,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Gladiators,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Todd Rundgren,
Brick,
Panda Bear,
Nation of Ulysses,
Jandek, Jandek, Jandek, Jandek.
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.