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 Afghanistan and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and New York.
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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the organ 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 Unrelated Segments to the jazz kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Blossom Toes. All the underground hits.
All Brass Construction tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every 8 Eyed Spy 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 a güiro and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Deepchord record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ultra Naté,
Moby Grape,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Joy Division,
The New Christs,
Dawn Penn,
Girls At Our Best!,
Blancmange,
Silicon Teens,
Radio Birdman,
Lower 48,
The Kinks,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Blues Magoos,
Derrick Morgan,
Technova,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Todd Rundgren,
L. Decosne,
Section 25,
Big Daddy Kane,
the Normal,
Matthew Bourne,
Ice-T,
Bill Near,
Aural Exciters,
Scratch Acid,
Mantronix,
Funkadelic,
Juan Atkins,
KRS-One,
Alice Coltrane,
Symarip,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Flamin' Groovies,
Theoretical Girls,
Glenn Branca,
Quadrant,
the Fania All-Stars,
Yaz,
Hashim,
Kerri Chandler,
The Selecter,
Stereo Dub,
Fear,
London Community Gospel Choir,
These Immortal Souls,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Howard Jones,
The Doors,
June Days,
Cheater Slicks,
Siglo XX,
H. Thieme,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Crispy Ambulance,
Scion,
DNA, DNA, DNA, DNA.
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.