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 Tajikistan and from Beijing.
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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Henry Cow to the punk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Buzzcocks. All the underground hits.
All Circle Jerks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Harpers Bizarre record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 synthesizer and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a H. Thieme record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes 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?
Prince Buster,
the Human League,
Warsaw,
Hashim,
Sam Rivers,
The Remains,
Bootsy Collins,
Minor Threat,
Malaria!,
Moebius,
8 Eyed Spy,
Swans,
Wally Richardson,
Arthur Verocai,
The Five Americans,
Suburban Knight,
Connie Case,
Gabor Szabo,
Barrington Levy,
The Electric Prunes,
Wolf Eyes,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Pulsallama,
Ronan,
The Smiths,
Aaron Thompson,
The Birthday Party,
Brand Nubian,
the Sonics,
The Fugs,
Dave Gahan,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Bobby Byrd,
Bobby Sherman,
The Human League,
Sixth Finger,
Unwound,
David Axelrod,
Oblivians,
Y Pants,
Gastr Del Sol,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Eve St. Jones,
JFA,
The Gories,
Jeru the Damaja,
Throbbing Gristle,
Blake Baxter,
Dead Boys,
Tres Demented,
Scott Walker,
Audionom,
Shoche,
The Mummies,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Aural Exciters,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Graham Central Station,
Pagans,
Terrestrial Tones, Terrestrial Tones, Terrestrial Tones, Terrestrial Tones.
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.