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 Burundi and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Fort Wilson Riot to the punk 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 Avey Tare. All the underground hits.
All Louis and Bebe Barron tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Patti Smith 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Matthew Bourne record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Adolescents,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Monks,
The Sonics,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Star Department,
The Flesh Eaters,
Surgeon,
Erykah Badu,
EPMD,
La Düsseldorf,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Rosa Yemen,
Johnny Osbourne,
Roxette,
Barry Ungar,
Juan Atkins,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Sexual Harrassment,
Mo-Dettes,
Qualms,
Sound Behaviour,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Misunderstood,
The New Christs,
In Retrospect,
Interpol,
T.S.O.L.,
Hardrive,
The Count Five,
Black Sheep,
Don Cherry,
Pierre Henry,
The Fuzztones,
Animal Collective,
Newcleus,
Blossom Toes,
The Cramps,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Parry Music,
Marshall Jefferson,
Fear,
Carl Craig,
Gerry Rafferty,
Moebius,
Jimmy McGriff,
Lower 48,
Prince Buster,
Q and Not U,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Mojo Men,
Slick Rick,
Gong,
Bluetip,
Jeff Lynne,
Piero Umiliani,
Alton Ellis,
Glenn Branca,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Gang Green,
Mars,
The Move,
Motorama, Motorama, Motorama, Motorama.
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.