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 Gabon and from Portland.
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 1969 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Tres Demented to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Kings Of Tomorrow. All the underground hits.
All Notorious Big And Bone Thugs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dual Sessions record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kango’s Stein Massive record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bad Manners,
Bang On A Can,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Groovy Waters,
The Walker Brothers,
The Remains,
Mission of Burma,
ABC,
Peter and Kerry,
Soft Cell,
Robert Hood,
Rapeman,
Half Japanese,
Neu!,
The Black Dice,
June Days,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
MC5,
R.M.O.,
Metal Thangz,
Pierre Henry,
Idris Muhammad,
The Neon Judgement,
Clear Light,
The Mummies,
Bronski Beat,
Dead Boys,
Easy Going,
Donald Byrd,
Man Eating Sloth,
Sexual Harrassment,
Bobby Sherman,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Roxette,
the Germs,
Robert Wyatt,
Unwound,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Minnie Riperton,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Pulsallama,
Black Flag,
Crash Course in Science,
Bobby Womack,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Electric Prunes,
Lindisfarne,
Icehouse,
David Axelrod,
Mary Jane Girls,
Peter & Gordon,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Pretty Things,
Minor Threat,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Mark Hollis,
Tommy Roe,
The Stooges,
Alphaville,
The United States of America,
The Young Rascals, The Young Rascals, The Young Rascals, The Young Rascals.
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.