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 Djibouti and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 clarinet 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 Marmalade to the punk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 United States of America. All the underground hits.
All Gian Franco Pienzio tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every KRS-One 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Vogues record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Dirtbombs,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Underground Resistance,
the Normal,
Saccharine Trust,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Reagan Youth,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Severed Heads,
Soulsonic Force,
Hardrive,
The Selecter,
Ponytail,
Kool Moe Dee,
10cc,
Black Moon,
Juan Atkins,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Rites of Spring,
Ituana,
Glenn Branca,
Bang On A Can,
The Leaves,
The Searchers,
Archie Shepp,
Little Man,
Inner City,
Urselle,
Suburban Knight,
Hasil Adkins,
The Black Dice,
Nils Olav,
Johnny Clarke,
Kerrie Biddell,
Grandmaster Flash,
Zapp,
Marmalade,
Rapeman,
Minutemen,
Fluxion,
Isaac Hayes,
OOIOO,
Alison Limerick,
Fad Gadget,
Barbara Tucker,
The Sound,
Lou Christie,
Tubeway Army,
T.S.O.L.,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Chris & Cosey,
Los Fastidios,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Junior Murvin,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
John Holt,
Howard Jones, Howard Jones, Howard Jones, Howard Jones.
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.