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 Bhutan and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 güiro 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 Strawberry Alarm Clock to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Ice-T. All the underground hits.
All Angry Samoans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rekid record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 spring reverb and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sam Rivers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Absolute Body Control,
Niagra,
Whodini,
Hasil Adkins,
Tropical Tobacco,
Buzzcocks,
ABBA,
Sexual Harrassment,
Mission of Burma,
Soul II Soul,
Joe Smooth,
Audionom,
The Vogues,
Jesper Dahlback,
Danielle Patucci,
Ten City,
Stockholm Monsters,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Can,
X-102,
Surgeon,
Simply Red,
Marc Almond,
CMW,
John Foxx,
Vainqueur,
Patti Smith,
Roxy Music,
Pere Ubu,
Procol Harum,
Pagans,
Monks,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Anthony Braxton,
Organ,
Metal Thangz,
Don Cherry,
Cluster,
The Index,
The Fall,
The Electric Prunes,
MDC,
Rapeman,
Jacques Brel,
Negative Approach,
Electric Prunes,
Blake Baxter,
The Human League,
Marvin Gaye,
the Association,
Sun City Girls,
Nas,
the Soft Cell,
The Slits,
Amon Düül II,
Drive Like Jehu,
John Holt,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Malaria!,
The Associates,
Livin' Joy,
Letta Mbulu,
Unwound, Unwound, Unwound, Unwound.
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.