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 Mongolia 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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Johannesburg.
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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Morten Harket to the rock kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Intrusion. All the underground hits.
All Brothers Johnson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Hashim record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 harpsichord and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Louis and Bebe Barron record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Raincoats,
Ronnie Foster,
The Durutti Column,
Index,
DJ Sneak,
Kurtis Blow,
Kool Moe Dee,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Sister Nancy,
Michelle Simonal,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Tom Boy,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Visage,
Stetsasonic,
Marc Almond,
Dawn Penn,
Swell Maps,
Pole,
The Velvet Underground,
The Walker Brothers,
Public Enemy,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Gang Gang Dance,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Erykah Badu,
Rufus Thomas,
the Swans,
Harry Pussy,
The Blackbyrds,
The Martian,
Leonard Cohen,
Brick,
Johnny Clarke,
The J.B.'s,
The Dave Clark Five,
Yaz,
Amazonics,
Monolake,
The Smoke,
Scan 7,
The Motions,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Bobby Byrd,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Black Sheep,
Bob Dylan,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Moody Blues,
Danielle Patucci,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
OOIOO,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Reuben Wilson,
The Standells,
Roxette,
The Last Poets,
Slave,
Soft Machine,
Young Marble Giants,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Donald Byrd,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Misunderstood, The Misunderstood, The Misunderstood, The Misunderstood.
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.