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 Egypt and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 Robert Palmer 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 Crispian St. Peters to the techno kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Electric Light Orchestra. All the underground hits.
All The Count Five tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Iggy Pop record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 an arpeggiator and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Buzzcocks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
D'Angelo,
The Fugs,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
John Coltrane,
Wings,
Aloha Tigers,
The United States of America,
Magma,
Sex Pistols,
Johnny Clarke,
H. Thieme,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Fuzztones,
The Walker Brothers,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Oneida,
Eyeless In Gaza,
48th St. Collective,
DNA,
Lucky Dragons,
Glenn Branca,
June of 44,
Sight & Sound,
cv313,
Slave,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Cluster,
Parry Music,
the Sonics,
Barrington Levy,
Icehouse,
Intrusion,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Modern Lovers,
The Slackers,
The Kinks,
John Holt,
DJ Style,
B.T. Express,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Peter and Kerry,
Kool Moe Dee,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Qualms,
New York Dolls,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Pagans,
Don Cherry,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Animal Collective,
The Selecter,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Nation of Ulysses,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Drexciya,
The Electric Prunes,
Juan Atkins,
The Beau Brummels, The Beau Brummels, The Beau Brummels, The Beau Brummels.
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.