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 Australia and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 güiro 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 Mission of Burma to the punk 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 The Walker Brothers. All the underground hits.
All Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mary Jane Girls record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rod Modell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lalann,
DJ Sneak,
Brick,
Sam Rivers,
Amon Düül,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Joe Smooth,
Derrick May,
Dead Boys,
Joey Negro,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Robert Wyatt,
Gang Gang Dance,
Cluster,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Alton Ellis,
The New Christs,
Howard Jones,
AZ,
Tommy Roe,
Kool Moe Dee,
Magma,
Can,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Birthday Party,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Pretty Things,
Excepter,
Albert Ayler,
Man Parrish,
The Dave Clark Five,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Motorama,
Ludus,
L. Decosne,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Organ,
The Stooges,
Gerry Rafferty,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
New York Dolls,
Sight & Sound,
Marcia Griffiths,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Slave,
Leonard Cohen,
Iggy Pop,
Spandau Ballet,
Arthur Verocai,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Pylon,
Deakin,
The Standells,
Fela Kuti,
U.S. Maple,
The Mighty Diamonds,
DNA,
The Alarm Clocks,
Wolf Eyes,
Crispy Ambulance,
Babytalk, Babytalk, Babytalk, Babytalk.
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.