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 Korea North and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 harpsichord 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 Ken Boothe to the crunk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Bill Near. All the underground hits.
All Quantec tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Todd Terry record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Das Ding record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Mighty Diamonds,
Index,
Rotary Connection,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Skatalites,
Piero Umiliani,
the Association,
The Kinks,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Minutemen,
Barry Ungar,
Jawbox,
Man Eating Sloth,
Eve St. Jones,
Bauhaus,
Aural Exciters,
Lalann,
The Moleskins,
Section 25,
Cheater Slicks,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Hashim,
The Detroit Cobras,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Oblivians,
Duran Duran,
Steve Hackett,
Blossom Toes,
Harmonia,
Agent Orange,
Isaac Hayes,
The Knickerbockers,
Zapp,
Amon Düül II,
The Gun Club,
The Saints,
Tim Buckley,
The Mojo Men,
The Star Department,
Swell Maps,
Sonic Youth,
Boz Scaggs,
Grauzone,
Magazine,
Accadde A,
the Soft Cell,
The Slackers,
The Divine Comedy,
Alice Coltrane,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Marcia Griffiths,
Morten Harket,
Cal Tjader,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Ultra Naté,
The Fugs,
Boogie Down Productions,
Nik Kershaw,
Scott Walker,
John Coltrane,
Ohio Players,
Angry Samoans,
The Durutti Column,
Robert Wyatt, Robert Wyatt, Robert Wyatt, Robert Wyatt.
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.