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 Bahamas and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 linndrum 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 Country Teasers to the dance 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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade. All the underground hits.
All Brick tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Glenn Branca record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marmalade,
Erykah Badu,
The Selecter,
Lucky Dragons,
Joyce Sims,
Pussy Galore,
Dorothy Ashby,
Eddi Front,
Oblivians,
Inner City,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
LL Cool J,
Heaven 17,
Rekid,
Charles Mingus,
The Fugs,
The Wake,
Amon Düül,
the Germs,
Black Pus,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Barracudas,
Sällskapet,
The Knickerbockers,
Monolake,
The Monochrome Set,
Negative Approach,
Malaria!,
The Pretty Things,
Aural Exciters,
Yellowson,
Harmonia,
Lebanon Hanover,
Mars,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Index,
Animal Collective,
kango's stein massive,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Trojans,
Unwound,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Fire Engines,
Archie Shepp,
Reagan Youth,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Golliwogs,
Tom Boy,
Jimmy McGriff,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Vladislav Delay,
Pagans,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Loose Ends,
David Bowie,
Sparks,
Leonard Cohen,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Sandy B,
Wasted Youth,
Howard Jones,
the Swans,
Frankie Knuckles, Frankie Knuckles, Frankie Knuckles, Frankie Knuckles.
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.