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 Philadelphia.
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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Mojo Men to the funk 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 Joy Division. All the underground hits.
All Soft Cell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nation of Ulysses record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Grass Roots record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pagans,
Khruangbin,
Joyce Sims,
The Litter,
Matthew Bourne,
Fad Gadget,
The Fire Engines,
Nik Kershaw,
Deakin,
Jeru the Damaja,
Roy Ayers,
Ludus,
Yellowson,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
The Stooges,
Sarah Menescal,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Lindisfarne,
Tears for Fears,
Hot Snakes,
Don Cherry,
Japan,
OOIOO,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Traffic Nightmare,
Rites of Spring,
The Busters,
Barclay James Harvest,
Eddi Front,
Wally Richardson,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Can,
Glenn Branca,
Stetsasonic,
Todd Rundgren,
Scott Walker,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
AZ,
John Coltrane,
Schoolly D,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Birthday Party,
Mandrill,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Kevin Saunderson,
Piero Umiliani,
Camouflage,
Joy Division,
Motorama,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Mars,
The Sound,
Robert Wyatt,
cv313,
Pantytec,
Make Up,
The Neon Judgement,
The Gories,
Flamin' Groovies,
a-ha, a-ha, a-ha, a-ha.
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.