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 Samoa and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1964 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 The Men They Couldn't Hang to the rap kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 X-Ray Spex. All the underground hits.
All The Sonics tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Barracudas record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ohio Players record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Minnie Riperton,
Robert Wyatt,
Boz Scaggs,
LL Cool J,
The Beau Brummels,
Ornette Coleman,
New Order,
The Smoke,
The Martian,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Birthday Party,
Wire,
Deepchord,
8 Eyed Spy,
Talk Talk,
X-Ray Spex,
Sällskapet,
The Evens,
Supertramp,
X-101,
The Buckinghams,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Eddi Front,
Nico,
Ultravox,
MDC,
Funkadelic,
The New Christs,
Bob Dylan,
Eurythmics,
Easy Going,
Patti Smith,
Liliput,
Roxy Music,
Ronan,
The Fall,
Moebius,
Todd Terry,
Silicon Teens,
Glambeats Corp.,
Lindisfarne,
Glenn Branca,
Tomorrow,
The Gap Band,
The Last Poets,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Aloha Tigers,
Black Sheep,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Neil Young,
Scott Walker,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Bad Manners,
Ludus,
Cybotron,
The Motions,
Lucky Dragons,
Josef K,
Lebanon Hanover,
Black Flag,
Delta 5, Delta 5, Delta 5, Delta 5.
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.