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 Belgium and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 snare 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 Scrapy to the grunge kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Sister Nancy. All the underground hits.
All Heavy D & The Boyz tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every OOIOO record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Standells record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Das Ding,
Swell Maps,
Porter Ricks,
New Order,
Colin Newman,
Parry Music,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Gong,
Y Pants,
Roger Hodgson,
Amazonics,
Section 25,
The Grass Roots,
Sandy B,
Marmalade,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
the Sonics,
The Sound,
Rod Modell,
Organ,
Grauzone,
Quadrant,
Hardrive,
Barclay James Harvest,
Lindisfarne,
Wolf Eyes,
Moby Grape,
Smog,
Iggy Pop,
The Fall,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Shadows of Knight,
Jeru the Damaja,
Circle Jerks,
Ken Boothe,
Robert Wyatt,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Alphaville,
Erasure,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Black Pus,
The Alarm Clocks,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Flesh Eaters,
Blossom Toes,
Shuggie Otis,
James Chance & The Contortions,
F. McDonald,
Gabor Szabo,
Gang Starr,
PIL,
Cluster,
David Bowie,
Gregory Isaacs,
Alton Ellis,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Model 500,
Japan,
Skarface,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Babytalk, Babytalk, Babytalk, Babytalk.
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.