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 Japan and from Beijing.
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 1968 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 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 Sarah Menescal to the grunge kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Anthony Braxton. All the underground hits.
All The Pretty Things tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Frankie Knuckles record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Brand Nubian record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Skatalites,
ABBA,
The Golliwogs,
The Selecter,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The American Breed,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Peter & Gordon,
China Crisis,
Brick,
Ultimate Spinach,
Reuben Wilson,
Juan Atkins,
Matthew Bourne,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Red Krayola,
B.T. Express,
Mr. Review,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Toasters,
Alphaville,
Eve St. Jones,
Darondo,
Lungfish,
Adolescents,
Guru Guru,
Kurtis Blow,
Rapeman,
The Durutti Column,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Music Machine,
Spandau Ballet,
Fat Boys,
Can,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Harry Pussy,
Warsaw,
Faust,
Roger Hodgson,
Mars,
Bluetip,
Interpol,
Roxette,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Mummies,
Aural Exciters,
Nick Fraelich,
Neu!,
The Tremeloes,
Marmalade,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Sam Rivers,
Black Flag,
MDC,
Altered Images,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Harpers Bizarre,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Quando Quango,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Deepchord, Deepchord, Deepchord, Deepchord.
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.