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 Papua New Guinea and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1964 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 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 DJ Style to the rap kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 The Fugs. All the underground hits.
All Black Sheep tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Henry Cow record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 rhodes and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Icehouse record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lightning Bolt,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
H. Thieme,
Eden Ahbez,
The Last Poets,
The Techniques,
The Human League,
Second Layer,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Mad Mike,
The Buckinghams,
Television Personalities,
Marc Almond,
Drexciya,
Gastr Del Sol,
These Immortal Souls,
Moebius,
Nik Kershaw,
Gil Scott Heron,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Matthew Halsall,
Intrusion,
Livin' Joy,
Smog,
the Sonics,
Country Teasers,
Isaac Hayes,
Lee Hazlewood,
Pharoah Sanders,
Sonny Sharrock,
Crooked Eye,
Icehouse,
Byron Stingily,
The Red Krayola,
Connie Case,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
John Lydon,
Dawn Penn,
Half Japanese,
The Durutti Column,
KRS-One,
Public Image Ltd.,
New Order,
The Offenders,
Mission of Burma,
Crispy Ambulance,
Bang On A Can,
Lower 48,
Popol Vuh,
Blossom Toes,
Sexual Harrassment,
Freddie Wadling,
Gichy Dan,
Tropical Tobacco,
The New Christs,
Davy DMX,
Brass Construction,
The Dirtbombs,
Depeche Mode,
Wasted Youth,
Robert Wyatt,
Avey Tare,
Maleditus Sound, Maleditus Sound, Maleditus Sound, Maleditus Sound.
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.