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 Norway and from Mexico City.
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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the guitar 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 Nirvana to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Joyce Sims. All the underground hits.
All The Index tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dark Day 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ajijia Myrayebe record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Aaron Thompson,
Sparks,
T.S.O.L.,
Rosa Yemen,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Happenings,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Bobby Byrd,
The Cramps,
Sexual Harrassment,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Michelle Simonal,
The Remains,
Robert Wyatt,
Lyres,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Bluetip,
Crime,
Kool Moe Dee,
X-Ray Spex,
MDC,
Connie Case,
Althea and Donna,
Neil Young,
The Electric Prunes,
The Red Krayola,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Kayak,
The Blues Magoos,
The Associates,
Wire,
The Angels of Light,
Dual Sessions,
Jeru the Damaja,
Crispy Ambulance,
John Coltrane,
Icehouse,
Vainqueur,
The Smiths,
Joyce Sims,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Depeche Mode,
Minnie Riperton,
The Count Five,
Ornette Coleman,
The Toasters,
Crash Course in Science,
Max Romeo,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Kevin Saunderson,
Grandmaster Flash,
Soulsonic Force,
Man Parrish,
The Alarm Clocks,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Cameo,
Royal Trux,
The Detroit Cobras,
Lou Reed,
Television Personalities,
Hashim,
Con Funk Shun,
Slave, Slave, Slave, Slave.
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.