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 Kiribati and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Madrid.
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 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 Urselle to the grunge 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 Babytalk. All the underground hits.
All Oppenheimer Analysis tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jerry Gold Smith record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fire Engines record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Cure,
The Divine Comedy,
Pantaleimon,
Soft Machine,
Oneida,
X-102,
The Star Department,
The Index,
Flipper,
The Leaves,
Fela Kuti,
Deakin,
Bauhaus,
Stetsasonic,
The Smoke,
Al Stewart,
Schoolly D,
Tommy Roe,
Robert Hood,
Gang Starr,
Sister Nancy,
Depeche Mode,
The Detroit Cobras,
the Bar-Kays,
Fluxion,
The Neon Judgement,
Man Eating Sloth,
Donald Byrd,
Black Moon,
the Soft Cell,
Dennis Brown,
Sun City Girls,
U.S. Maple,
Brothers Johnson,
The Five Americans,
Yazoo,
Parry Music,
Eve St. Jones,
Metal Thangz,
Symarip,
Suburban Knight,
Lindisfarne,
The Standells,
Simply Red,
John Cale,
The United States of America,
Dorothy Ashby,
Todd Terry,
Janne Schatter,
The Motions,
Gang Gang Dance,
Babytalk,
Crash Course in Science,
Clear Light,
Jeru the Damaja,
Smog,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Radiohead,
The Black Dice,
Joensuu 1685, Joensuu 1685, Joensuu 1685, Joensuu 1685.
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.