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 Ireland and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
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 The Velvet Underground to the dance 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 Pole. All the underground hits.
All Rapeman tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Angry Samoans record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Darondo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum 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?
Traffic Nightmare,
The Sound,
Moebius,
Crooked Eye,
Flipper,
Bauhaus,
The Standells,
Panda Bear,
Gregory Isaacs,
Bush Tetras,
Cabaret Voltaire,
James Chance & The Contortions,
New Age Steppers,
Connie Case,
Scratch Acid,
Slick Rick,
Delon & Dalcan,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Eli Mardock,
Cecil Taylor,
Jawbox,
Ralphi Rosario,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Chris Corsano,
Eve St. Jones,
Eddi Front,
Jeff Lynne,
Rod Modell,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Goldenarms,
Procol Harum,
Grandmaster Flash,
Cameo,
Mary Jane Girls,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Offenders,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Wire,
Marmalade,
Nick Fraelich,
Shoche,
Supertramp,
The Pop Group,
The Real Kids,
Lou Christie,
cv313,
Kurtis Blow,
kango's stein massive,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Thompson Twins,
Interpol,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Fall,
Essential Logic,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Minnie Riperton,
Ultimate Spinach,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Mo-Dettes,
The Fortunes,
John Foxx, John Foxx, John Foxx, John Foxx.
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.