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 Nauru and from Portland.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the oboe 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 T.S.O.L. to the crunk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Don Cherry. All the underground hits.
All Eddi Front tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Andrew Hill record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Coltrane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Deakin,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Litter,
Public Image Ltd.,
Cymande,
Magazine,
Fifty Foot Hose,
New York Dolls,
These Immortal Souls,
Flash Fearless,
Procol Harum,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Josef K,
Television,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Lindisfarne,
the Human League,
Crispian St. Peters,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Music Machine,
The Monks,
Lee Hazlewood,
Albert Ayler,
X-101,
The Beau Brummels,
Nils Olav,
Skaos,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Nico,
MC5,
The Birthday Party,
Neil Young,
Alison Limerick,
The New Christs,
DJ Style,
Sun Ra,
Nick Fraelich,
Oblivians,
Tubeway Army,
10cc,
John Holt,
Tropical Tobacco,
cv313,
Fatback Band,
F. McDonald,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Thompson Twins,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Inner City,
Prince Buster,
Crash Course in Science,
Audionom,
The Doors,
The Blues Magoos,
Surgeon,
Graham Central Station,
Brand Nubian,
Tears for Fears,
The Royal Family And The Poor, The Royal Family And The Poor, The Royal Family And The Poor, The Royal Family And The Poor.
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.