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 Tanzania and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 snare 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 Bizarre Inc. to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Bang on a Can All-Stars. All the underground hits.
All A Flock of Seagulls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kaleidoscope 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gastr Del Sol record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Deadbeat,
Josef K,
D'Angelo,
Man Parrish,
Michelle Simonal,
The Dave Clark Five,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Clear Light,
Zero Boys,
Robert Wyatt,
Heaven 17,
Marshall Jefferson,
Traffic Nightmare,
Joy Division,
Intrusion,
Severed Heads,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Ornette Coleman,
Anakelly,
Carl Craig,
Swell Maps,
Tropical Tobacco,
Yaz,
Ituana,
The Electric Prunes,
Barclay James Harvest,
Excepter,
Toni Rubio,
Outsiders,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
John Coltrane,
The Walker Brothers,
Prince Buster,
the Bar-Kays,
Q and Not U,
Moby Grape,
Joyce Sims,
The Durutti Column,
Harmonia,
Infiniti,
Blake Baxter,
U.S. Maple,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Lalann,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
LL Cool J,
Audionom,
the Association,
The Monks,
Brass Construction,
Matthew Halsall,
Smog,
Byron Stingily,
Hardrive,
Hot Snakes,
Mr. Review,
The Names,
This Heat,
a-ha,
Television Personalities,
Das Ding,
Mad Mike, Mad Mike, Mad Mike, Mad Mike.
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.