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 Russia and from London.
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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Calgary.
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 rhodes 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 Bang On A Can 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 Vainqueur. All the underground hits.
All LL Cool J tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Brothers Johnson 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Oppenheimer Analysis record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Robert Wyatt,
The Beau Brummels,
Quantec,
The Moleskins,
The Grass Roots,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
David Bowie,
Unwound,
Delon & Dalcan,
Bizarre Inc.,
Suicide,
Soft Cell,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
China Crisis,
The Dirtbombs,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Half Japanese,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Ash Ra Tempel,
In Retrospect,
Sonny Sharrock,
Kurtis Blow,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Y Pants,
Mantronix,
Dead Boys,
Oneida,
The Fall,
The Angels of Light,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Lower 48,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Charles Mingus,
Public Enemy,
Make Up,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Delta 5,
Eric Copeland,
Joey Negro,
Cecil Taylor,
The Sound,
Eurythmics,
Alphaville,
Bobby Womack,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Boogie Down Productions,
Cheater Slicks,
Moby Grape,
Girls At Our Best!,
8 Eyed Spy,
Gang Starr,
Cybotron,
Scratch Acid,
Supertramp,
Gregory Isaacs,
Ludus,
Matthew Bourne,
Cameo, Cameo, Cameo, Cameo.
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.