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 Canada and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Sex Pistols to the crunk 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 Man Parrish. All the underground hits.
All Roy Ayers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Stiv Bators 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 marimba and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fela Kuti record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron 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 Gladiators,
Dorothy Ashby,
Vainqueur,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Lebanon Hanover,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Alarm Clocks,
Zero Boys,
Kenny Larkin,
Barry Ungar,
Eric Copeland,
Harmonia,
Dark Day,
Anakelly,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Fall,
Bob Dylan,
Aural Exciters,
X-Ray Spex,
Rufus Thomas,
Lalo Schifrin,
a-ha,
Avey Tare,
Los Fastidios,
Gang Gang Dance,
Sound Behaviour,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Matthew Bourne,
Franke,
Jandek,
Arab on Radar,
The Mummies,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Martian,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Ponytail,
Brick,
The Sound,
Khruangbin,
Boredoms,
ABBA,
Kurtis Blow,
Flamin' Groovies,
Infiniti,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Aaron Thompson,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Marvin Gaye,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Offenders,
Piero Umiliani,
John Cale,
Stiv Bators,
Neil Young,
Black Sheep,
Grauzone,
Porter Ricks,
The Modern Lovers,
The Knickerbockers,
The Remains, The Remains, The Remains, The Remains.
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.