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 Liberia and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Sound Behaviour to the grime 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 Zapp. All the underground hits.
All The Kinks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Newcleus record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 snare and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Harry Pussy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Fuzztones,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Marvin Gaye,
Roxy Music,
Sound Behaviour,
The New Christs,
Monks,
Reagan Youth,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Seeds,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Cecil Taylor,
UT,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Nils Olav,
Mr. Review,
Dave Gahan,
Desert Stars,
Al Stewart,
These Immortal Souls,
A Certain Ratio,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Organ,
June Days,
The Invisible,
KRS-One,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Connie Case,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Glenn Branca,
Fear,
Johnny Osbourne,
the Swans,
The United States of America,
Idris Muhammad,
The Alarm Clocks,
Bang On A Can,
Mars,
Scientists,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Sonny Sharrock,
Bluetip,
Negative Approach,
Steve Hackett,
Spandau Ballet,
Joy Division,
T. Rex,
kango's stein massive,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Stetsasonic,
Maleditus Sound,
Michelle Simonal,
Zapp,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Count Five,
Lungfish,
The Remains,
Suburban Knight,
Toni Rubio,
The Slackers,
The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs.
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.