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 Maldives and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 chamberlin 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 Guru Guru to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 New Christs. All the underground hits.
All Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Harmonia 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gong record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Maurizio,
The Raincoats,
The Neon Judgement,
CMW,
Angry Samoans,
Lou Christie,
Glambeats Corp.,
Jeff Lynne,
John Holt,
Robert Wyatt,
Technova,
Audionom,
Porter Ricks,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Lyres,
Make Up,
Harry Pussy,
Peter & Gordon,
Wings,
The Real Kids,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Deakin,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
New York Dolls,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Martian,
Nils Olav,
Tres Demented,
Marcia Griffiths,
Radiohead,
Wally Richardson,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Loose Ends,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Durutti Column,
Unrelated Segments,
ABBA,
Moebius,
Tears for Fears,
Sister Nancy,
Neil Young,
Ronnie Foster,
Hot Snakes,
MDC,
Fear,
Drive Like Jehu,
Goldenarms,
Lalann,
Motorama,
Slave,
Kenny Larkin,
Pantytec,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Human League,
Agent Orange,
Barbara Tucker,
Black Flag,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Bad Manners,
Brand Nubian,
Sugar Minott,
Jeru the Damaja,
Bush Tetras, Bush Tetras, Bush Tetras, Bush Tetras.
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.