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 Swaziland and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam 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 Buzzcocks. All the underground hits.
All Robert Görl tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sister Nancy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 an oboe and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Major Organ And The Adding Machine record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Porter Ricks,
Marmalade,
Bobby Byrd,
Royal Trux,
The Fortunes,
Arab on Radar,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Wake,
Tubeway Army,
Tears for Fears,
The Pretty Things,
Television,
The Doobie Brothers,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Yusef Lateef,
Joe Finger,
Circle Jerks,
Cheater Slicks,
Toni Rubio,
Vainqueur,
Ronnie Foster,
Lower 48,
The Dead C,
Leonard Cohen,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Josef K,
Susan Cadogan,
Bootsy Collins,
Jacques Brel,
Bill Near,
Accadde A,
Bob Dylan,
New York Dolls,
Radio Birdman,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Eve St. Jones,
The Knickerbockers,
The Red Krayola,
Nik Kershaw,
New Order,
Ossler,
Morten Harket,
Throbbing Gristle,
Oneida,
Beasts of Bourbon,
K-Klass,
Smog,
Sugar Minott,
Swell Maps,
AZ,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Slave,
Scientists,
Grey Daturas,
the Normal,
Zapp,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Eli Mardock,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Blues Magoos,
Funkadelic, Funkadelic, Funkadelic, Funkadelic.
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.