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 Sri Lanka 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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Mumbai.
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 1968 at the first Can practice in a loft in Cologne.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Public Image Ltd. to the disco kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Loose Ends. All the underground hits.
All Sällskapet tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Derrick May 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 808 and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Interpol record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
UT,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Marc Almond,
The Barracudas,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Bluetip,
The Dirtbombs,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Tremeloes,
Freddie Wadling,
The Names,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Cybotron,
The Blues Magoos,
Groovy Waters,
Wasted Youth,
Main Source,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Red Krayola,
Schoolly D,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Bob Dylan,
Talk Talk,
Saccharine Trust,
Aural Exciters,
Severed Heads,
Slave,
Dark Day,
Laurel Aitken,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Cabaret Voltaire,
This Heat,
Subhumans,
U.S. Maple,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Selecter,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
David Axelrod,
CMW,
Lucky Dragons,
Oneida,
Cal Tjader,
the Sonics,
Man Parrish,
David McCallum,
Terrestrial Tones,
Accadde A,
Organ,
Ultravox,
Carl Craig,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Liliput,
The Toasters,
La Düsseldorf,
Terry Callier,
Motorama,
Tommy Roe,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Mummies,
Khruangbin,
The Grass Roots,
Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore.
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.