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 Namibia and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Blancmange to the electroclash kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Star Department. All the underground hits.
All Deadbeat tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wolf Eyes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pylon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Section 25,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Victims,
The Pretty Things,
The Toasters,
Pharoah Sanders,
Von Mondo,
Connie Case,
Ronan,
Echospace,
Sound Behaviour,
Pole,
Sonny Sharrock,
Eddi Front,
Bobby Hutcherson,
the Fania All-Stars,
Bobby Womack,
Fugazi,
Panda Bear,
FM Einheit,
Barclay James Harvest,
Eric B and Rakim,
Intrusion,
Wasted Youth,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
D'Angelo,
Nico,
The Dave Clark Five,
Archie Shepp,
The Stooges,
Lou Christie,
The Count Five,
Severed Heads,
Deakin,
Mad Mike,
The American Breed,
The Leaves,
The Mojo Men,
Porter Ricks,
The Walker Brothers,
K-Klass,
Shoche,
The Gun Club,
Buzzcocks,
T.S.O.L.,
cv313,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Five Americans,
James White and The Blacks,
Con Funk Shun,
Byron Stingily,
Sun Ra,
Lucky Dragons,
Kenny Larkin,
The Index,
Crispy Ambulance,
Rites of Spring,
Pere Ubu,
Tears for Fears, Tears for Fears, Tears for Fears, Tears for Fears.
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.