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 St Lucia and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 The Cramps to the techno kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Terror Squad Feat. Camron. All the underground hits.
All Teenage Jesus and the Jerks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Strawberry Alarm Clock record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 marimba and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lebanon Hanover record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Smoke,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
8 Eyed Spy,
Albert Ayler,
Banda Bassotti,
One Last Wish,
The Beau Brummels,
Joyce Sims,
Faust,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Cure,
B.T. Express,
Quando Quango,
Half Japanese,
KRS-One,
Cal Tjader,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Jerry's Kids,
Eric Copeland,
Don Cherry,
Todd Terry,
T.S.O.L.,
Sonny Sharrock,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Saccharine Trust,
World's Most,
Marmalade,
Royal Trux,
Marvin Gaye,
Tres Demented,
Robert Hood,
Warsaw,
Franke,
Buzzcocks,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Scratch Acid,
Max Romeo,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Standells,
The Wake,
Arthur Verocai,
Mo-Dettes,
Oblivians,
Easy Going,
Fatback Band,
Eden Ahbez,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Cramps,
Model 500,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Sällskapet,
Aural Exciters,
The Busters,
Shuggie Otis,
Fela Kuti,
Derrick May,
Tommy Roe,
Alice Coltrane,
Black Bananas,
The Skatalites,
Judy Mowatt,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Invisible,
H. Thieme,
Circle Jerks, Circle Jerks, Circle Jerks, Circle Jerks.
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.