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 Thailand and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 Tom Verlaine 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 Blackbyrds to the grunge 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 Country Teasers. All the underground hits.
All Television Personalities 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 jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Boredoms record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Moon,
Stereo Dub,
Eric Dolphy,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Red Krayola,
Porter Ricks,
Cecil Taylor,
Jesper Dahlback,
Scan 7,
Chris & Cosey,
Pole,
Deepchord,
Sam Rivers,
Sexual Harrassment,
Skarface,
Bluetip,
Sugar Minott,
The Barracudas,
Davy DMX,
Jeru the Damaja,
Cheater Slicks,
Silicon Teens,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Last Poets,
Section 25,
The Martian,
La Düsseldorf,
Eddi Front,
Ultravox,
Glambeats Corp.,
Electric Prunes,
Lindisfarne,
Steve Hackett,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
David McCallum,
Kas Product,
Marc Almond,
Sex Pistols,
Organ,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Sarah Menescal,
Gang Green,
Q and Not U,
DJ Sneak,
Goldenarms,
Pere Ubu,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Man Parrish,
The Cowsills,
Amazonics,
The Fire Engines,
Howard Jones,
Qualms,
Skriet,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
DJ Style,
Juan Atkins,
Wally Richardson,
Ronan,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Boz Scaggs,
China Crisis,
Rites of Spring,
Bobby Womack, Bobby Womack, Bobby Womack, Bobby Womack.
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.