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 Algeria and from Manchester.
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 Bologna and Beijing.
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 marimba 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 D'Angelo to the punk 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 Fear. All the underground hits.
All The Birthday Party tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Byron Stingily 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T. Rex record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Main Source,
The Move,
T.S.O.L.,
Infiniti,
The Remains,
Minny Pops,
The Barracudas,
A Certain Ratio,
The Modern Lovers,
Derrick Morgan,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Divine Comedy,
Soft Cell,
Man Parrish,
Aswad,
Mandrill,
Shoche,
H. Thieme,
Scrapy,
Banda Bassotti,
Soft Machine,
the Swans,
Spoonie Gee,
E-Dancer,
F. McDonald,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Erykah Badu,
Ponytail,
Grey Daturas,
Pet Shop Boys,
Ten City,
Funkadelic,
The Buckinghams,
Mad Mike,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Last Poets,
Gichy Dan,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Pop Group,
Livin' Joy,
The Fire Engines,
Barbara Tucker,
Minor Threat,
Tom Boy,
Marc Almond,
Rites of Spring,
Ken Boothe,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Peter & Gordon,
Niagra,
Fatback Band,
Aural Exciters,
Sixth Finger,
Radio Birdman,
Arab on Radar,
Youth Brigade,
The Moody Blues,
The Red Krayola,
John Foxx,
Mr. Review, Mr. Review, Mr. Review, Mr. Review.
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.