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 Philippines and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 Lou Reed 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 Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish to the electroclash 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 Donald Byrd. All the underground hits.
All Wolf Eyes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every John Cale 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Grauzone record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Electric Light Orchestra,
Black Sheep,
T.S.O.L.,
The J.B.'s,
Johnny Osbourne,
Fugazi,
Zapp,
The Monks,
The Slackers,
Blossom Toes,
Surgeon,
Hoover,
Derrick Morgan,
Crispian St. Peters,
the Normal,
The Last Poets,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
DJ Sneak,
Silicon Teens,
Mark Hollis,
AZ,
Laurel Aitken,
Traffic Nightmare,
Heaven 17,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Shuggie Otis,
Sugar Minott,
Kurtis Blow,
Alphaville,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Black Dice,
Judy Mowatt,
Dark Day,
Q and Not U,
Jeff Lynne,
Flipper,
Pylon,
Danielle Patucci,
Flamin' Groovies,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
R.M.O.,
Buzzcocks,
Reuben Wilson,
Eric B and Rakim,
Anakelly,
Lee Hazlewood,
Parry Music,
Tom Boy,
The Real Kids,
Young Marble Giants,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
China Crisis,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Tropical Tobacco,
Tommy Roe,
Barrington Levy,
Rekid,
Motorama,
Roy Ayers,
The Martian,
Bob Dylan,
Avey Tare, Avey Tare, Avey Tare, Avey Tare.
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.