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 Moldova and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Shanghai.
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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the oboe 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 Strawberry Alarm Clock to the electroclash 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 The Cure. All the underground hits.
All Sunsets and Hearts tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ponytail record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 an oboe and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Chrome record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
X-Ray Spex,
Arcadia,
Arthur Verocai,
Bush Tetras,
The Walker Brothers,
Television,
Smog,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Kinks,
Lalann,
Alison Limerick,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Fat Boys,
Archie Shepp,
The Smoke,
Talk Talk,
Dennis Brown,
The Invisible,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The American Breed,
Nirvana,
H. Thieme,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Vogues,
Delta 5,
Sound Behaviour,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Velvet Underground,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Skarface,
The Raincoats,
Moss Icon,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Motions,
World's Most,
The United States of America,
Erasure,
Organ,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Martian,
Steve Hackett,
Shoche,
Y Pants,
Colin Newman,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Glenn Branca,
OOIOO,
The Five Americans,
Magazine,
Pantaleimon,
Boredoms,
Black Sheep,
Robert Hood,
Unwound,
Godley & Creme,
The Real Kids,
The Modern Lovers,
Faust,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Lightning Bolt,
Eden Ahbez, Eden Ahbez, Eden Ahbez, Eden Ahbez.
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.