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 Montenegro and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 chamberlin 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 The Smoke 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 Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five. All the underground hits.
All Second Layer tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Vainqueur record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 an organ and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marc Almond,
Public Image Ltd.,
Theoretical Girls,
Roger Hodgson,
Byron Stingily,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Walker Brothers,
The Fall,
Godley & Creme,
Wasted Youth,
Max Romeo,
Desert Stars,
Procol Harum,
MC5,
Panda Bear,
Hasil Adkins,
Pagans,
The Doors,
Bill Near,
Eli Mardock,
Minor Threat,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Marvin Gaye,
Pantytec,
R.M.O.,
Cheater Slicks,
The Cramps,
The Vogues,
The Detroit Cobras,
Shoche,
Eric B and Rakim,
Tears for Fears,
The Busters,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Mark Hollis,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Bobby Womack,
The Trojans,
Crispian St. Peters,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Echospace,
Minutemen,
Scan 7,
Section 25,
Can,
Talk Talk,
Mr. Review,
Lyres,
Royal Trux,
Mantronix,
the Human League,
Depeche Mode,
Harry Pussy,
the Normal,
Traffic Nightmare,
AZ,
The Techniques,
Pulsallama,
The Knickerbockers,
Davy DMX,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Ponytail, Ponytail, Ponytail, Ponytail.
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.