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 Zimbabwe and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 Captain Beefheart 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 Throbbing Gristle to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Saints. All the underground hits.
All Silicon Teens tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sun Ra 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tubeway Army record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe 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 Men They Couldn't Hang,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
James White and The Blacks,
Rufus Thomas,
Index,
Letta Mbulu,
Jacob Miller,
Wasted Youth,
The Saints,
Ultra Naté,
Japan,
The Five Americans,
Ultravox,
ABBA,
Graham Central Station,
Sly & The Family Stone,
PIL,
Delta 5,
Sonny Sharrock,
Byron Stingily,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Underground Resistance,
F. McDonald,
Be Bop Deluxe,
New Age Steppers,
Jeru the Damaja,
Tropical Tobacco,
Tears for Fears,
Dark Day,
Donny Hathaway,
Andrew Hill,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Rakim,
Y Pants,
Barclay James Harvest,
Scott Walker,
Amon Düül II,
The Sonics,
Simply Red,
Roxette,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Dawn Penn,
David Axelrod,
Juan Atkins,
Judy Mowatt,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Gichy Dan,
Gregory Isaacs,
Soulsonic Force,
Black Flag,
Pagans,
In Retrospect,
Skarface,
The Electric Prunes,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
T. Rex,
the Normal,
Todd Rundgren,
Vladislav Delay,
Fat Boys, Fat Boys, Fat Boys, Fat Boys.
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.