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 Ethiopia and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1963 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 theremin 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 a-ha to the techno 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 New York Dolls. All the underground hits.
All Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade 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 organ and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Smoke record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Cramps,
Tropical Tobacco,
Ponytail,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Busters,
Silicon Teens,
Junior Murvin,
The Knickerbockers,
The Shadows of Knight,
Dennis Brown,
Harpers Bizarre,
Technova,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Grass Roots,
Oblivians,
Mary Jane Girls,
Ultimate Spinach,
Anthony Braxton,
Man Parrish,
Byron Stingily,
Echospace,
Yaz,
The Sisters of Mercy,
X-Ray Spex,
The Victims,
The Vogues,
Radiohead,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Roxy Music,
Blossom Toes,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Shoche,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Ultra Naté,
The Kinks,
The Fugs,
Pulsallama,
Laurel Aitken,
Barbara Tucker,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
UT,
Max Romeo,
T.S.O.L.,
The Music Machine,
Desert Stars,
Sugar Minott,
ABBA,
Alton Ellis,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Dave Clark Five,
Glenn Branca,
Dual Sessions,
Bill Wells,
A Certain Ratio,
Bootsy Collins,
Royal Trux,
Metal Thangz,
Inner City,
Faraquet,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Von Mondo,
Fatback Band,
Erykah Badu, Erykah Badu, Erykah Badu, Erykah Badu.
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.