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 Togo and from Columbus.
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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Scrapy to the grunge 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 Au Pairs. All the underground hits.
All Oneida tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Traffic Nightmare record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Beau Brummels record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Curtis Mayfield,
Crooked Eye,
Half Japanese,
The Saints,
Man Parrish,
Wolf Eyes,
Nico,
K-Klass,
The Five Americans,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Swans,
Niagra,
Ponytail,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Kaleidoscope,
The Vogues,
The Dead C,
Ornette Coleman,
Tomorrow,
Roxy Music,
the Bar-Kays,
Rapeman,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
These Immortal Souls,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Sisters of Mercy,
In Retrospect,
New York Dolls,
Ultra Naté,
Laurel Aitken,
The Busters,
Angry Samoans,
Negative Approach,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Doors,
The Young Rascals,
Wally Richardson,
Qualms,
The Sonics,
Andrew Hill,
Sandy B,
H. Thieme,
Hashim,
Ludus,
Sixth Finger,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
David Axelrod,
Icehouse,
Agitation Free,
Junior Murvin,
Henry Cow,
Animal Collective,
Sex Pistols,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Kevin Saunderson,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
DJ Sneak,
Iggy Pop,
Tim Buckley,
Country Teasers,
Bronski Beat, Bronski Beat, Bronski Beat, Bronski Beat.
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.