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 Swaziland and from Lyon.
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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Jacob Miller to the funk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Drive Like Jehu. All the underground hits.
All Byron Stingily tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Barrington Levy 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Camouflage record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Techniques,
Cybotron,
The New Christs,
Ossler,
Sällskapet,
Alice Coltrane,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Angels of Light,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Roxette,
Jandek,
Chrome,
LL Cool J,
Talk Talk,
ABBA,
New Order,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Cal Tjader,
Chris Corsano,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Rakim,
Yazoo,
Half Japanese,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
The Dirtbombs,
Marcia Griffiths,
Lower 48,
B.T. Express,
Robert Hood,
Adolescents,
June of 44,
Jeff Lynne,
The Count Five,
Section 25,
Lyres,
Audionom,
Dawn Penn,
Pharoah Sanders,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Fugs,
Wings,
Eve St. Jones,
Big Daddy Kane,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Public Enemy,
Delta 5,
The Blues Magoos,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Brothers Johnson,
The Sound,
The Mojo Men,
Swell Maps,
Janne Schatter,
The Index,
OOIOO,
Albert Ayler,
X-101,
The Real Kids,
Henry Cow,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Ronnie Foster,
Scientists,
The Smiths, The Smiths, The Smiths, The Smiths.
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.