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 Senegal and from Hong Kong.
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 1965 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Brothers Johnson to the disco kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 De La Soul & Jungle Brothers. All the underground hits.
All The New Christs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jacques Brel 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Adolescents record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Barrington Levy,
Model 500,
Lalo Schifrin,
Roger Hodgson,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Tremeloes,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Talk Talk,
Deepchord,
Banda Bassotti,
ABBA,
La Düsseldorf,
Duran Duran,
Funkadelic,
The Star Department,
The Mummies,
JFA,
Brand Nubian,
The Zeros,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Nas,
Sex Pistols,
The Grass Roots,
Yellowson,
Morten Harket,
The Blues Magoos,
Monks,
Easy Going,
Mission of Burma,
Liliput,
Andrew Hill,
Fela Kuti,
The Fugs,
Wire,
Los Fastidios,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Motorama,
The Slackers,
Rotary Connection,
Rekid,
Don Cherry,
Deakin,
Kevin Saunderson,
Arthur Verocai,
The Gun Club,
Eric Dolphy,
Girls At Our Best!,
Jacques Brel,
Ronnie Foster,
Deadbeat,
Jesper Dahlback,
Howard Jones,
The Electric Prunes,
Flipper,
Quando Quango,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Crooked Eye,
Arcadia,
The Doors,
Grey Daturas, Grey Daturas, Grey Daturas, Grey Daturas.
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.