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 Philippines and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Severed Heads to the funk 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 the Normal. All the underground hits.
All Kool G Rap & DJ Polo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Charles Mingus 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Litter record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Suicide,
Fatback Band,
Roger Hodgson,
Rotary Connection,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Gang Gang Dance,
Ronnie Foster,
Man Parrish,
Lou Reed,
Skaos,
Fela Kuti,
John Foxx,
The Slackers,
Mark Hollis,
Al Stewart,
Grey Daturas,
Aswad,
The Shadows of Knight,
X-Ray Spex,
Godley & Creme,
John Holt,
The Cure,
Blake Baxter,
Excepter,
Ultravox,
Hoover,
Fat Boys,
This Heat,
the Sonics,
Donald Byrd,
Mad Mike,
The Leaves,
Tres Demented,
Charles Mingus,
Gerry Rafferty,
Kas Product,
Nation of Ulysses,
Dark Day,
Essential Logic,
Crash Course in Science,
JFA,
Black Sheep,
Flipper,
The Motions,
The Doors,
Piero Umiliani,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Angels of Light,
The American Breed,
Pagans,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Buckinghams,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Brothers Johnson,
Sällskapet,
Throbbing Gristle,
H. Thieme,
David McCallum,
Swell Maps,
Vainqueur,
The Blues Magoos, The Blues Magoos, The Blues Magoos, The Blues Magoos.
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.