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 Nepal and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1961 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Glasgow.
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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 The Fire Engines to the rock kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Groovy Waters. All the underground hits.
All Sex Pistols tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Camouflage record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rites of Spring record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Leaves,
Oblivians,
Byron Stingily,
Gabor Szabo,
Subhumans,
Kevin Saunderson,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Shuggie Otis,
Sarah Menescal,
Sonny Sharrock,
Girls At Our Best!,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Pussy Galore,
Desert Stars,
The Slackers,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Bush Tetras,
Bob Dylan,
Spandau Ballet,
Angry Samoans,
Lakeside,
Panda Bear,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Invisible,
Arthur Verocai,
Accadde A,
48th St. Collective,
The Fuzztones,
Marc Almond,
Visage,
Television,
the Human League,
The Techniques,
The Modern Lovers,
Clear Light,
The Remains,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Monochrome Set,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Jacques Brel,
Crooked Eye,
Boz Scaggs,
Delon & Dalcan,
Unwound,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Bobbi Humphrey,
DJ Sneak,
Fela Kuti,
Marine Girls,
The Trojans,
Mandrill,
Popol Vuh,
Joensuu 1685,
Moby Grape,
Spoonie Gee,
U.S. Maple,
Electric Prunes,
Black Pus,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
the Sonics,
Pere Ubu,
The Dave Clark Five,
Infiniti, Infiniti, Infiniti, Infiniti.
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.