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 Germany and from Bremen.
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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Boredoms 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 Connie Case. All the underground hits.
All The Angels of Light tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jawbox record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Robert Hood record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pet Shop Boys,
Big Daddy Kane,
Faust,
Audionom,
John Holt,
Bill Wells,
the Bar-Kays,
Man Eating Sloth,
Marshall Jefferson,
OOIOO,
Reuben Wilson,
Model 500,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Piero Umiliani,
The Evens,
The Pretty Things,
In Retrospect,
Young Marble Giants,
Donald Byrd,
Underground Resistance,
Delta 5,
The Doors,
the Slits,
Lalo Schifrin,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Radiopuhelimet,
Eric Copeland,
The Gladiators,
Brick,
The Blues Magoos,
Mandrill,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Sonics,
Procol Harum,
Prince Buster,
Scott Walker,
Basic Channel,
Duran Duran,
Maleditus Sound,
Loose Ends,
FM Einheit,
The Standells,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Monks,
Suicide,
The Birthday Party,
The Dirtbombs,
Marcia Griffiths,
Marmalade,
Tim Buckley,
Lungfish,
Blake Baxter,
Desert Stars,
Shuggie Otis,
John Lydon,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Sister Nancy,
Bauhaus,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Knickerbockers,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Harry Pussy, Harry Pussy, Harry Pussy, Harry Pussy.
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.