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 Guyana and from Paris.
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 1961 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Black Pus to the grunge kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Freddie Wadling. All the underground hits.
All Los Fastidios tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bang on a Can All-Stars 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dark Day record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Flesh Eaters,
The Star Department,
Deadbeat,
Skarface,
Von Mondo,
Schoolly D,
Chrome,
Blossom Toes,
Nas,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Mandrill,
Banda Bassotti,
Wally Richardson,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Gladiators,
the Bar-Kays,
Shoche,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Morten Harket,
Barrington Levy,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Ultra Naté,
Brick,
Derrick Morgan,
X-101,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Fortunes,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Gang of Four,
Amazonics,
Black Moon,
Absolute Body Control,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Barry Ungar,
Bluetip,
Metal Thangz,
The Moody Blues,
Black Bananas,
The Angels of Light,
Boz Scaggs,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Young Marble Giants,
Lungfish,
The Leaves,
The Busters,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Wire,
Rapeman,
Adolescents,
The Slits,
Crispy Ambulance,
Niagra,
10cc,
Dark Day,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Colin Newman,
The Victims,
Kenny Larkin,
Sam Rivers,
The Modern Lovers, The Modern Lovers, The Modern Lovers, The Modern Lovers.
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.