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 South Africa and from New York.
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 1969 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 EPMD to the grime kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band. All the underground hits.
All Interpol tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scott Walker 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Frankie Knuckles record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Camouflage,
Hoover,
Josef K,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Symarip,
Pussy Galore,
Donald Byrd,
Surgeon,
Von Mondo,
Franke,
Porter Ricks,
Urselle,
Joe Finger,
Youth Brigade,
The Pop Group,
Arcadia,
The Modern Lovers,
Henry Cow,
Boredoms,
The Fire Engines,
Swans,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Cramps,
The Angels of Light,
Sex Pistols,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Slackers,
The Human League,
The Misunderstood,
Gang Gang Dance,
R.M.O.,
Arthur Verocai,
The Kinks,
Nik Kershaw,
FM Einheit,
Carl Craig,
The Neon Judgement,
Vainqueur,
Roxette,
Jacob Miller,
H. Thieme,
Alton Ellis,
Scott Walker,
Technova,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Minnie Riperton,
The Cowsills,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Agent Orange,
Dark Day,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Anthony Braxton,
Gabor Szabo,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Music Machine,
Eric B and Rakim,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Quantec,
Jandek,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Quadrant,
Black Pus,
Cybotron,
Icehouse, Icehouse, Icehouse, Icehouse.
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.