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 Trinidad & Tobago and from Houston.
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 1968 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Radio Birdman to the funk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Altered Images. All the underground hits.
All Terror Squad Feat. Camron tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Zapp 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Babytalk record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Skriet,
the Slits,
The Flesh Eaters,
Hasil Adkins,
The Busters,
Jeff Lynne,
The Gories,
The Five Americans,
the Swans,
The Mojo Men,
Man Eating Sloth,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
kango's stein massive,
The Detroit Cobras,
Hoover,
Q65,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Supertramp,
Alison Limerick,
Neil Young,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Bush Tetras,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Count Five,
Minny Pops,
The Zeros,
Soulsonic Force,
The Star Department,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Sexual Harrassment,
Porter Ricks,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Divine Comedy,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Fall,
Bill Wells,
Roger Hodgson,
Fad Gadget,
Kenny Larkin,
Marmalade,
Sun Ra,
cv313,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Pantytec,
FM Einheit,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Deepchord,
Kurtis Blow,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Ronnie Foster,
The Moleskins,
Negative Approach,
Scan 7,
Parry Music,
Brothers Johnson,
Zero Boys,
Connie Case,
Wolf Eyes,
Arab on Radar, Arab on Radar, Arab on Radar, Arab on Radar.
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.