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 Liberia and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 Robert Palmer 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 Terrestrial Tones to the grime kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Gang Green. All the underground hits.
All June of 44 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every It's A Beautiful Day 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Golliwogs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Icehouse,
The Saints,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The United States of America,
Gerry Rafferty,
Rhythm & Sound,
EPMD,
Bronski Beat,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Harry Pussy,
Jeru the Damaja,
Chris & Cosey,
Depeche Mode,
Aural Exciters,
The Gories,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Lebanon Hanover,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Joyce Sims,
Gastr Del Sol,
Television,
The Grass Roots,
Scientists,
The Evens,
Skarface,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Residents,
Soul Sonic Force,
Roger Hodgson,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Eric B and Rakim,
Scan 7,
Anakelly,
the Association,
Chrome,
Yellowson,
Barclay James Harvest,
Bill Near,
The Sonics,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Cameo,
Theoretical Girls,
Maurizio,
The Electric Prunes,
Thompson Twins,
The Human League,
Marine Girls,
The Martian,
The Seeds,
The Associates,
The Last Poets,
Lyres,
Bobby Sherman,
Infiniti,
Idris Muhammad,
DJ Sneak,
Archie Shepp,
Gang Green,
Trumans Water,
Negative Approach,
Max Romeo, Max Romeo, Max Romeo, Max Romeo.
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.