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 Madagascar and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Gastr Del Sol to the punk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Marc Almond. All the underground hits.
All The Electric Prunes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Janne Schatter record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gong record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Shadows of Knight,
Little Man,
Nation of Ulysses,
Crash Course in Science,
the Germs,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Funky Four + One,
Drive Like Jehu,
Avey Tare,
The Searchers,
Lebanon Hanover,
Yusef Lateef,
Ossler,
Black Sheep,
The Cowsills,
Excepter,
Nirvana,
Freddie Wadling,
Ituana,
Soft Cell,
Tears for Fears,
Robert Hood,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Arab on Radar,
Rod Modell,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Wolf Eyes,
Matthew Halsall,
Crispian St. Peters,
Alison Limerick,
Camberwell Now,
The Black Dice,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Schoolly D,
Jacques Brel,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
James White and The Blacks,
Popol Vuh,
The Grass Roots,
Malaria!,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Gap Band,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Ponytail,
The Vogues,
E-Dancer,
The Knickerbockers,
Bobby Sherman,
Boogie Down Productions,
Cluster,
Deepchord,
Los Fastidios,
Duran Duran,
Sällskapet,
The New Christs,
Soul Sonic Force,
Essential Logic,
The Fall,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Cameo, Cameo, Cameo, Cameo.
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.