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 Trinidad & Tobago and from Tokyo.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1970 at the first Onyeabor practice in a loft in Enugu.
I was working on the linndrum 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 the Swans to the punk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Fear. All the underground hits.
All The Barracudas tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Siouxsie and the Banshees record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Simply Red record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Radio Birdman,
Gang Green,
The Doobie Brothers,
PIL,
Lucky Dragons,
Porter Ricks,
Little Man,
Black Flag,
The Fire Engines,
Adolescents,
Robert Wyatt,
Masters at Work,
The Misunderstood,
The Gories,
Dawn Penn,
Fad Gadget,
The Trojans,
Organ,
Visage,
Throbbing Gristle,
John Lydon,
Bobby Byrd,
Cluster,
Pere Ubu,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
the Slits,
Technova,
Harmonia,
Boz Scaggs,
DNA,
Fatback Band,
Gastr Del Sol,
Roy Ayers,
Bob Dylan,
The Barracudas,
Steve Hackett,
The Real Kids,
Eli Mardock,
Babytalk,
The Standells,
Eve St. Jones,
Lightning Bolt,
The Flesh Eaters,
Sugar Minott,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Toasters,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Sight & Sound,
Lebanon Hanover,
Donny Hathaway,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Anthony Braxton,
Henry Cow,
Johnny Clarke,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Wally Richardson,
Crispy Ambulance,
Chris Corsano,
Soft Machine, Soft Machine, Soft Machine, Soft Machine.
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.