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 Belarus and from Portland.
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 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Beasts of Bourbon to the crunk 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 Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds. All the underground hits.
All Theoretical Girls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cameo record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Babytalk record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Marc Almond,
Suburban Knight,
the Sonics,
Rekid,
R.M.O.,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Maleditus Sound,
Gang Gang Dance,
Barrington Levy,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Camberwell Now,
Laurel Aitken,
the Human League,
Half Japanese,
Sun Ra,
Bad Manners,
Crispian St. Peters,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Standells,
The Happenings,
Tom Boy,
Pere Ubu,
Rhythm & Sound,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Q and Not U,
John Holt,
Nas,
Sam Rivers,
Joe Smooth,
The Grass Roots,
Barry Ungar,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Joensuu 1685,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Angry Samoans,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Tears for Fears,
Gil Scott Heron,
Mantronix,
The Searchers,
The Monks,
Deakin,
Monks,
Siglo XX,
DJ Style,
The Flesh Eaters,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Gabor Szabo,
Derrick Morgan,
Soft Cell,
The Toasters,
Negative Approach,
D'Angelo,
The Slits,
Brothers Johnson,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Moby Grape,
Schoolly D,
Robert Hood,
the Association, the Association, the Association, the Association.
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.