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 Gambia and from Calgary.
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 1963 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Organ to the dance 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 Wings. All the underground hits.
All Bootsy's Rubber Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Graham Central Station 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Bananas record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Matthew Bourne,
Desert Stars,
FM Einheit,
Pierre Henry,
The New Christs,
Kevin Saunderson,
Subhumans,
The Fugs,
Angry Samoans,
The Cure,
X-Ray Spex,
The Move,
Popol Vuh,
The Zeros,
Clear Light,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Ultimate Spinach,
Rosa Yemen,
Suburban Knight,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Symarip,
Neil Young,
Roxy Music,
Royal Trux,
Robert Hood,
Nirvana,
Lyres,
Pantaleimon,
Pet Shop Boys,
Toni Rubio,
Roger Hodgson,
Brand Nubian,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Stiv Bators,
Nation of Ulysses,
Junior Murvin,
Howard Jones,
Todd Terry,
Rod Modell,
Electric Prunes,
Judy Mowatt,
Lower 48,
Wally Richardson,
Nick Fraelich,
The Searchers,
Spandau Ballet,
The Leaves,
Pole,
A Certain Ratio,
Smog,
Hoover,
the Swans,
Adolescents,
Dawn Penn,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Henry Cow,
Yellowson,
The Gun Club,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Marine Girls,
Glambeats Corp.,
Big Daddy Kane, Big Daddy Kane, Big Daddy Kane, Big Daddy Kane.
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.