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 Peru and from New York.
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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 X-Ray Spex to the grime kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Divine Comedy. All the underground hits.
All Circle Jerks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fugazi record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 theremin 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 synthesizer and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Vladislav Delay,
In Retrospect,
Man Eating Sloth,
Avey Tare,
Aswad,
Brick,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
the Sonics,
Hasil Adkins,
Leonard Cohen,
The Slackers,
Trumans Water,
Jeff Lynne,
The Angels of Light,
Donald Byrd,
Wolf Eyes,
Radio Birdman,
Cheater Slicks,
Throbbing Gristle,
L. Decosne,
Rosa Yemen,
The Tremeloes,
Barrington Levy,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Joe Finger,
K-Klass,
Bobby Byrd,
Monolake,
Hardrive,
Anthony Braxton,
Susan Cadogan,
Simply Red,
U.S. Maple,
The New Christs,
Sister Nancy,
Nik Kershaw,
Drexciya,
Alice Coltrane,
Joe Smooth,
Letta Mbulu,
Ponytail,
the Slits,
Todd Terry,
Fela Kuti,
The Fall,
Morten Harket,
The Remains,
Judy Mowatt,
UT,
F. McDonald,
Animal Collective,
Lower 48,
Sex Pistols,
Freddie Wadling,
The Zeros,
cv313,
Wings,
Crooked Eye,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Last Poets,
Dark Day, Dark Day, Dark Day, Dark Day.
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.