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 Turkmenistan and from Lille.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the theremin 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 Dead Boys to the rap kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Deepchord. All the underground hits.
All Bob Dylan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Masters at Work record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lower 48,
Mars,
Jeru the Damaja,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Residents,
John Cale,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Hot Snakes,
Crooked Eye,
Camberwell Now,
Outsiders,
Pantaleimon,
Sarah Menescal,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Barbara Tucker,
Trumans Water,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Soft Cell,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Oblivians,
Sixth Finger,
Lalann,
Blake Baxter,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Moody Blues,
Tears for Fears,
Siglo XX,
Grandmaster Flash,
Pole,
Rakim,
Terry Callier,
The Mojo Men,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Nation of Ulysses,
Barclay James Harvest,
Young Marble Giants,
Fear,
Lyres,
The Walker Brothers,
Brick,
Grey Daturas,
Accadde A,
Dorothy Ashby,
Bang On A Can,
Marvin Gaye,
Moss Icon,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Tom Boy,
The Tremeloes,
Gong,
Danielle Patucci,
Dead Boys,
The Slackers,
Slick Rick,
Nils Olav,
Moebius,
The Dead C,
Panda Bear, Panda Bear, Panda Bear, Panda Bear.
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.