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 China and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 808 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 Kaleidoscope to the punk 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 Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch. All the underground hits.
All Susan Cadogan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Porter Ricks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Last Poets record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Patti Smith,
Gang Green,
Mad Mike,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
DNA,
The Motions,
Sandy B,
L. Decosne,
Main Source,
Sex Pistols,
Big Daddy Kane,
Yaz,
Dennis Brown,
Donny Hathaway,
Television,
Easy Going,
Drexciya,
Throbbing Gristle,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Michelle Simonal,
KRS-One,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Cal Tjader,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Ornette Coleman,
Sparks,
Mission of Burma,
Marcia Griffiths,
Can,
DJ Sneak,
The Pop Group,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Arcadia,
Brass Construction,
Iggy Pop,
Skaos,
Arthur Verocai,
Tommy Roe,
The Tremeloes,
The Dead C,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The American Breed,
Pagans,
Jerry's Kids,
Adolescents,
Scion,
Dark Day,
Schoolly D,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Joyce Sims,
Public Image Ltd.,
Franke,
Ronnie Foster,
Pierre Henry,
Technova,
Von Mondo,
Y Pants,
The Beau Brummels,
Alison Limerick, Alison Limerick, Alison Limerick, Alison Limerick.
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.