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 Kosovo and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 clarinet 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 Selector Dub Narcotic to the punk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud. All the underground hits.
All Glambeats Corp. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Harry Pussy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 snare and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dawn Penn record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Minnie Riperton,
The Remains,
The Black Dice,
Jeff Lynne,
Qualms,
The Grass Roots,
Gichy Dan,
The Monks,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Tears for Fears,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Symarip,
Moebius,
Liliput,
Pagans,
PIL,
The Busters,
Roger Hodgson,
The Smoke,
The Mummies,
Jesper Dahlback,
Drexciya,
Eric Copeland,
Marcia Griffiths,
Matthew Halsall,
Scratch Acid,
Fifty Foot Hose,
John Coltrane,
Rekid,
Joe Smooth,
Aural Exciters,
The Seeds,
Mary Jane Girls,
Echospace,
Gong,
The Fall,
Young Marble Giants,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Index,
Radiohead,
Bush Tetras,
The Skatalites,
Piero Umiliani,
Audionom,
Rakim,
Gerry Rafferty,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
MDC,
Bob Dylan,
The Misunderstood,
UT,
The Shadows of Knight,
Malaria!,
Nico,
Jerry's Kids,
Urselle,
Black Sheep,
Main Source,
Sex Pistols,
The Knickerbockers,
Warsaw, Warsaw, Warsaw, Warsaw.
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.