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 Italy and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1964 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 arpeggiator 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 T. Rex to the grime 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 The Buckinghams. All the underground hits.
All Stiv Bators tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gang of Four record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobby Byrd record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marmalade,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Crime,
Mad Mike,
The Pop Group,
The Evens,
The Victims,
Prince Buster,
The Tremeloes,
Marshall Jefferson,
Clear Light,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Last Poets,
Sam Rivers,
Don Cherry,
The Remains,
The Motions,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Skatalites,
Swans,
Josef K,
Lower 48,
Deadbeat,
Basic Channel,
Section 25,
Marc Almond,
Gang Starr,
Quando Quango,
Arab on Radar,
Bill Near,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Reuben Wilson,
Spoonie Gee,
Black Pus,
Thee Headcoats,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Pere Ubu,
Archie Shepp,
Cecil Taylor,
David Axelrod,
Desert Stars,
Gong,
Lalann,
Soulsonic Force,
Tres Demented,
Make Up,
Livin' Joy,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Golliwogs,
John Cale,
The Zeros,
The Fuzztones,
The Red Krayola,
The Slackers,
Joe Smooth,
Albert Ayler,
Skarface,
Angry Samoans,
Scott Walker, Scott Walker, Scott Walker, Scott Walker.
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.