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 Uruguay and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Wire show in Watford.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 harpsichord 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 Seeds to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 New Age Steppers. All the underground hits.
All R.M.O. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Chris Corsano 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Symarip record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Robert Hood,
John Coltrane,
The Gladiators,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Fall,
John Holt,
Mandrill,
Johnny Osbourne,
Rod Modell,
Banda Bassotti,
The Smoke,
Model 500,
Franke,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Silicon Teens,
AZ,
Little Man,
The Golliwogs,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Con Funk Shun,
Henry Cow,
LL Cool J,
T. Rex,
The Dead C,
Funky Four + One,
the Fania All-Stars,
Kool Moe Dee,
Mad Mike,
The Gories,
Stetsasonic,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Mars,
New Age Steppers,
Delon & Dalcan,
EPMD,
The American Breed,
Parry Music,
The Gap Band,
Neu!,
The J.B.'s,
The Kinks,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
La Düsseldorf,
Tears for Fears,
The Flesh Eaters,
DJ Sneak,
The Searchers,
Barrington Levy,
Kas Product,
Crime,
Hashim,
Jandek,
Roxy Music,
T.S.O.L.,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Pulsallama,
Tommy Roe,
Flipper,
Gastr Del Sol,
D'Angelo, D'Angelo, D'Angelo, D'Angelo.
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.