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 Andorra and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1961 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Madrid.
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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Stiv Bators to the disco kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Crispy Ambulance. All the underground hits.
All Sly & The Family Stone tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Gun Club 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Dead C record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Doobie Brothers,
Eddi Front,
Sixth Finger,
the Soft Cell,
Harmonia,
Fear,
Nik Kershaw,
The Saints,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Tommy Roe,
Eli Mardock,
Arab on Radar,
Godley & Creme,
Patti Smith,
The Fortunes,
Oblivians,
Ralphi Rosario,
Bauhaus,
Maleditus Sound,
U.S. Maple,
The Move,
Fat Boys,
Masters at Work,
The Evens,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Agent Orange,
The Dirtbombs,
Sister Nancy,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Count Five,
The Martian,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Lou Christie,
Boogie Down Productions,
JFA,
FM Einheit,
Negative Approach,
The Zeros,
Aaron Thompson,
K-Klass,
Rapeman,
Alice Coltrane,
Jacques Brel,
Yaz,
Joy Division,
Max Romeo,
Magma,
Ohio Players,
Lightning Bolt,
Freddie Wadling,
Das Ding,
Gang of Four,
Deadbeat,
Aloha Tigers,
Suburban Knight,
Prince Buster,
Spoonie Gee,
Joe Smooth,
The Kinks,
Rites of Spring,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Cymande, Cymande, Cymande, Cymande.
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.