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 Ivory Coast and from Houston.
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 1969 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 rhodes 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 Ultimate Spinach to the grime kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Crispian St. Peters. All the underground hits.
All Lungfish tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Motorama record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 organ and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sex Pistols record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
ABBA,
Amon Düül II,
The Dead C,
Glenn Branca,
Aural Exciters,
Nils Olav,
The Names,
Grandmaster Flash,
Robert Wyatt,
Cal Tjader,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Intrusion,
The Slits,
Bronski Beat,
Toni Rubio,
CMW,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Sister Nancy,
Fad Gadget,
Joensuu 1685,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Scan 7,
The Black Dice,
Inner City,
Icehouse,
Piero Umiliani,
Japan,
Monolake,
Brothers Johnson,
L. Decosne,
Saccharine Trust,
The Remains,
The Gladiators,
Bizarre Inc.,
Kaleidoscope,
The Vogues,
Yazoo,
JFA,
Steve Hackett,
Massinfluence,
Rhythm & Sound,
Lebanon Hanover,
the Bar-Kays,
Scientists,
Bob Dylan,
Jerry Gold Smith,
the Germs,
Crispy Ambulance,
Los Fastidios,
Deepchord,
Guru Guru,
Johnny Clarke,
Subhumans,
R.M.O.,
Camouflage,
Barry Ungar,
Minor Threat,
Black Flag,
Circle Jerks,
Harmonia,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The Cure,
Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye.
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.