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 Romania and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 sitar 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 Metal Thangz to the rap 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 The Slackers. All the underground hits.
All Al Stewart tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eyeless In Gaza 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Roger Hodgson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Adolescents,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Amazonics,
David Bowie,
Chrome,
The Mummies,
Goldenarms,
The Cramps,
the Normal,
Unwound,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Blossom Toes,
Spoonie Gee,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Essential Logic,
Tres Demented,
The Remains,
Camouflage,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Marine Girls,
The Mojo Men,
Flamin' Groovies,
Peter & Gordon,
The Velvet Underground,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Chris Corsano,
New Age Steppers,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Ice-T,
Rosa Yemen,
K-Klass,
Joy Division,
Althea and Donna,
Avey Tare,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Flipper,
The Litter,
Black Pus,
The Birthday Party,
Scion,
Nik Kershaw,
Shuggie Otis,
Frankie Knuckles,
Pagans,
The Walker Brothers,
The Motions,
The Flesh Eaters,
The New Christs,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Sun Ra,
Pussy Galore,
The Divine Comedy,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Moss Icon,
Yellowson,
Rites of Spring,
Babytalk,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Tom Boy,
Sarah Menescal,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers, De La Soul & Jungle Brothers, De La Soul & Jungle Brothers, De La Soul & Jungle Brothers.
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.