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 Finland and from Edmonton.
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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Marmalade to the rock 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 James White and The Blacks. All the underground hits.
All PIL tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Cosmic Jokers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dave Gahan record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
New Age Steppers,
The Durutti Column,
Darondo,
the Fania All-Stars,
Maurizio,
T.S.O.L.,
Barrington Levy,
Metal Thangz,
The Dave Clark Five,
Lucky Dragons,
The Vogues,
The American Breed,
the Human League,
Barbara Tucker,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Sonics,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Bootsy Collins,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Mighty Diamonds,
the Normal,
Minnie Riperton,
Nick Fraelich,
Sarah Menescal,
Sun Ra,
John Holt,
Blake Baxter,
The Flesh Eaters,
Max Romeo,
Groovy Waters,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Khruangbin,
E-Dancer,
Los Fastidios,
The Cowsills,
This Heat,
The Neon Judgement,
Crispy Ambulance,
Big Daddy Kane,
Moby Grape,
The Misunderstood,
The Moody Blues,
The Young Rascals,
Piero Umiliani,
Bobby Womack,
The Tremeloes,
kango's stein massive,
Quantec,
Cluster,
Susan Cadogan,
The Gladiators,
Mandrill,
Skarface,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Arab on Radar,
Black Sheep,
Fatback Band,
Crash Course in Science,
Vainqueur,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids, Richard Hell and the Voidoids, Richard Hell and the Voidoids, Richard Hell and the Voidoids.
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.