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 Thailand and from Taipei.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Eric B and Rakim 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 Qualms. All the underground hits.
All Mo-Dettes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Alice Coltrane 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wire,
Faust,
Harpers Bizarre,
Babytalk,
Shoche,
Hoover,
Roxy Music,
The Residents,
The Walker Brothers,
The Beau Brummels,
The Divine Comedy,
Skriet,
The Human League,
LL Cool J,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Andrew Hill,
Bluetip,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Bootsy Collins,
The Cowsills,
The Gladiators,
Sun Ra,
Funky Four + One,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Television Personalities,
Make Up,
Al Stewart,
The Durutti Column,
Wasted Youth,
The Dave Clark Five,
Deepchord,
Pussy Galore,
Isaac Hayes,
Index,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Bobby Byrd,
This Heat,
Jeff Lynne,
Hardrive,
Dorothy Ashby,
Nas,
Rod Modell,
Fatback Band,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Kerrie Biddell,
Maurizio,
One Last Wish,
John Foxx,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Dual Sessions,
Lindisfarne,
Sexual Harrassment,
Tubeway Army,
The Move,
The Blackbyrds,
Joe Smooth,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Minutemen,
Godley & Creme,
Rites of Spring,
Sunsets and Hearts, Sunsets and Hearts, Sunsets and Hearts, Sunsets and Hearts.
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.