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 Uzbekistan and from Hong Kong.
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 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Jimmy McGriff to the grunge 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 Severed Heads. All the underground hits.
All Nick Fraelich tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Major Organ And The Adding Machine record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 sitar and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
DNA,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Skatalites,
Youth Brigade,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Rekid,
Marc Almond,
Animal Collective,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Gladiators,
Dorothy Ashby,
Fatback Band,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Y Pants,
The Cramps,
Absolute Body Control,
Todd Rundgren,
Wasted Youth,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Jeru the Damaja,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Joey Negro,
Gang of Four,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Traffic Nightmare,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Selecter,
Arcadia,
Kerri Chandler,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Slackers,
Rufus Thomas,
R.M.O.,
Roger Hodgson,
This Heat,
The Wake,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Shuggie Otis,
Kevin Saunderson,
Motorama,
Supertramp,
Nas,
Albert Ayler,
Rapeman,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Slave,
Mars,
K-Klass,
Urselle,
Vainqueur,
Ralphi Rosario,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Jawbox,
Sällskapet,
Public Image Ltd.,
Pierre Henry,
The Fire Engines,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Scion,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Royal Trux,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx, Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx, Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx, Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx.
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.