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 Turkmenistan and from Shanghai.
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 1964 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 organ 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 Pere Ubu to the disco 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 Arab on Radar. All the underground hits.
All The Moleskins tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Vaughan Mason & Crew 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sun Ra Arkestra record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Porter Ricks,
Fifty Foot Hose,
H. Thieme,
Grey Daturas,
Jeff Lynne,
Masters at Work,
Freddie Wadling,
Scientists,
X-Ray Spex,
Roxette,
The Toasters,
Theoretical Girls,
B.T. Express,
Camouflage,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
the Bar-Kays,
Ken Boothe,
Au Pairs,
Whodini,
Clear Light,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Excepter,
Fear,
Lakeside,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Rosa Yemen,
The Last Poets,
Model 500,
Oneida,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
the Normal,
Tubeway Army,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Sight & Sound,
Lungfish,
The Evens,
The Happenings,
The Beau Brummels,
Depeche Mode,
One Last Wish,
Ohio Players,
The Residents,
Yellowson,
Cal Tjader,
Dawn Penn,
Talk Talk,
Qualms,
Dave Gahan,
The Searchers,
Mission of Burma,
Hardrive,
The Smiths,
The Fugs,
Skaos,
Stiv Bators,
The Alarm Clocks,
Minutemen,
The Fortunes,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Fire Engines,
Gregory Isaacs,
Stereo Dub, Stereo Dub, Stereo Dub, Stereo Dub.
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.