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 Ecuador and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Remains to the rap kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band. All the underground hits.
All Lungfish tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eddi Front record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Lydon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The United States of America,
The Vogues,
Monks,
The Fuzztones,
Matthew Halsall,
Gang Gang Dance,
Newcleus,
Avey Tare,
Blake Baxter,
Byron Stingily,
Man Parrish,
Nick Fraelich,
Blossom Toes,
Tubeway Army,
Eric Dolphy,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Tears for Fears,
H. Thieme,
Colin Newman,
Swell Maps,
Michelle Simonal,
Quadrant,
The Angels of Light,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Donald Byrd,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Accadde A,
DJ Sneak,
Au Pairs,
Silicon Teens,
A Flock of Seagulls,
B.T. Express,
Idris Muhammad,
The Young Rascals,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Todd Rundgren,
Ornette Coleman,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
the Bar-Kays,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Jacob Miller,
The Pop Group,
Tomorrow,
The Busters,
Hoover,
Siglo XX,
Alice Coltrane,
The Black Dice,
Urselle,
Intrusion,
New Age Steppers,
Theoretical Girls,
Deakin,
The Cowsills,
Kerri Chandler,
the Normal,
Essential Logic,
Joy Division,
Isaac Hayes,
Visage,
The Modern Lovers,
Black Bananas,
Eurythmics, Eurythmics, Eurythmics, Eurythmics.
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.