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 Cameroon and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Stockholm.
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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Depeche Mode to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Angry Samoans. All the underground hits.
All The Barracudas tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Patti Smith record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 synthesizer and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nik Kershaw,
Eve St. Jones,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Amon Düül,
Flipper,
48th St. Collective,
Camberwell Now,
The Happenings,
Jandek,
The Golliwogs,
The New Christs,
Sparks,
Ossler,
The Toasters,
Rites of Spring,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Siglo XX,
Donny Hathaway,
Black Pus,
Little Man,
Tom Boy,
Black Bananas,
Heaven 17,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Lungfish,
Jeru the Damaja,
Isaac Hayes,
PIL,
The Names,
Lalo Schifrin,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
David McCallum,
Hasil Adkins,
Johnny Clarke,
Stetsasonic,
Pulsallama,
Joe Smooth,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
The Grass Roots,
Crime,
Trumans Water,
The Buckinghams,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Malaria!,
Carl Craig,
Mark Hollis,
Das Ding,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Newcleus,
Pere Ubu,
The Last Poets,
Minnie Riperton,
The Neon Judgement,
The Index,
Jimmy McGriff,
Skaos,
The Walker Brothers,
Deadbeat,
Nation of Ulysses,
Surgeon, Surgeon, Surgeon, Surgeon.
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.