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 Costa Rica and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1976 at the first Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Dead C to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Intrusion. All the underground hits.
All Shuggie Otis tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Byrd 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 rhodes and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Royal Trux record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mandrill,
Blancmange,
DNA,
Franke,
Von Mondo,
The Mojo Men,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Shadows of Knight,
Warren Ellis,
The Young Rascals,
Warsaw,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Quando Quango,
Bauhaus,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Siglo XX,
Ice-T,
The United States of America,
Lucky Dragons,
The New Christs,
The Mummies,
Theoretical Girls,
Harpers Bizarre,
Anthony Braxton,
The Fall,
Michelle Simonal,
Adolescents,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
MC5,
Alison Limerick,
Lightning Bolt,
Thee Headcoats,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Cameo,
Public Enemy,
T. Rex,
The Moleskins,
Das Ding,
Pulsallama,
Sandy B,
Ohio Players,
Nils Olav,
Nico,
Hasil Adkins,
The Blues Magoos,
Joe Smooth,
Mark Hollis,
Bobby Sherman,
Frankie Knuckles,
Surgeon,
Porter Ricks,
Clear Light,
The Detroit Cobras,
Roxy Music,
Los Fastidios,
Wings,
Lebanon Hanover,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Barbara Tucker,
Pere Ubu,
Dorothy Ashby, Dorothy Ashby, Dorothy Ashby, Dorothy Ashby.
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.