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 United Kingdom and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 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 Marcia Griffiths to the techno kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Graham Central Station. All the underground hits.
All Warsaw tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lakeside 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 synthesizer and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Blues Magoos record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wasted Youth,
Amazonics,
Qualms,
Model 500,
Donald Byrd,
Oblivians,
Joy Division,
The Misunderstood,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Scrapy,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Gang of Four,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Livin' Joy,
Fifty Foot Hose,
AZ,
Kenny Larkin,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Divine Comedy,
Sister Nancy,
Roxy Music,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Avey Tare,
Basic Channel,
Radiopuhelimet,
Grauzone,
The Electric Prunes,
Roy Ayers,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Neon Judgement,
Lindisfarne,
John Cale,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Flesh Eaters,
Y Pants,
The Star Department,
Quadrant,
The Durutti Column,
Amon Düül,
The Standells,
Scion,
Aswad,
The Smiths,
The Pop Group,
Heaven 17,
Blake Baxter,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Zeros,
Stockholm Monsters,
Pole,
MC5,
The Residents,
Kerrie Biddell,
China Crisis,
Nas,
the Soft Cell,
Moby Grape,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Organ,
Little Man, Little Man, Little Man, Little Man.
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.