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 Manchester.
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 1967 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the marimba 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 The Velvet Underground to the rock 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 The Mighty Diamonds. All the underground hits.
All X-102 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Chocolate Watch Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Smiths record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Barclay James Harvest,
The Gladiators,
Tomorrow,
Traffic Nightmare,
Technova,
Supertramp,
Inner City,
Arab on Radar,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Arthur Verocai,
Kerrie Biddell,
Danielle Patucci,
the Bar-Kays,
David Axelrod,
Surgeon,
Big Daddy Kane,
10cc,
Parry Music,
Scratch Acid,
The Human League,
the Fania All-Stars,
Albert Ayler,
Mo-Dettes,
The Star Department,
Tubeway Army,
Barbara Tucker,
ABC,
Henry Cow,
Blake Baxter,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Offenders,
Marmalade,
Skarface,
Man Parrish,
FM Einheit,
Liliput,
Minnie Riperton,
F. McDonald,
The Buckinghams,
Con Funk Shun,
Little Man,
Cameo,
DJ Style,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Gong,
The Index,
Jacob Miller,
Piero Umiliani,
David Bowie,
Quando Quango,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Cramps,
Subhumans,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Skriet,
The Flesh Eaters,
Kaleidoscope,
Ultimate Spinach,
Excepter,
Jandek,
The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs.
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.