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 Belize and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 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 Black Pus to the rock 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 Josef K. All the underground hits.
All the Germs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Junior Murvin record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Minor Threat record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Index,
Flamin' Groovies,
Ten City,
Ronan,
Lindisfarne,
Mandrill,
Spoonie Gee,
Yaz,
The Leaves,
Pussy Galore,
The Neon Judgement,
Lou Christie,
cv313,
Dawn Penn,
The Standells,
Jacob Miller,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Sound,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Michelle Simonal,
Piero Umiliani,
Rosa Yemen,
Blossom Toes,
the Soft Cell,
The Birthday Party,
New Age Steppers,
Arcadia,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Eurythmics,
Wolf Eyes,
Swell Maps,
David Bowie,
Matthew Halsall,
In Retrospect,
Ronnie Foster,
Scan 7,
Marmalade,
Unwound,
Ludus,
Marvin Gaye,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Morten Harket,
Grauzone,
F. McDonald,
Scott Walker,
Letta Mbulu,
The Stooges,
Interpol,
Sarah Menescal,
The Victims,
Curtis Mayfield,
Sandy B,
Saccharine Trust,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Wasted Youth,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Camberwell Now,
Gabor Szabo,
The Grass Roots,
the Fania All-Stars,
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.