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 Kuwait and from Columbus.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Kango’s Stein Massive to the jazz kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Gong. All the underground hits.
All Henry Cow tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Supertramp 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Loose Ends record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rapeman,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Crash Course in Science,
New Age Steppers,
The Blackbyrds,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Sixth Finger,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Godley & Creme,
Minutemen,
The Human League,
The Move,
Rod Modell,
Second Layer,
The Skatalites,
Bootsy Collins,
Pantytec,
Livin' Joy,
Dark Day,
Liliput,
Crispian St. Peters,
Simply Red,
Negative Approach,
Eli Mardock,
Ultimate Spinach,
Average White Band,
Aural Exciters,
June of 44,
Pylon,
Pere Ubu,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Barbara Tucker,
Isaac Hayes,
The Moody Blues,
Lebanon Hanover,
John Lydon,
Heaven 17,
L. Decosne,
Scott Walker,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The Toasters,
Lee Hazlewood,
Whodini,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Barry Ungar,
Lou Christie,
Jeru the Damaja,
Country Teasers,
Brass Construction,
T. Rex,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Malaria!,
Scion,
Quando Quango,
The Beau Brummels,
Howard Jones,
Pagans,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Terrestrial Tones,
Icehouse, Icehouse, Icehouse, Icehouse.
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.