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 Laos and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 Houston and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 Television to the crunk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Alton Ellis. All the underground hits.
All Brand Nubian tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scion record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Khruangbin record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Minnie Riperton,
Procol Harum,
Kerrie Biddell,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Amon Düül II,
Eric Dolphy,
the Swans,
The Wake,
Sun City Girls,
Soft Cell,
Eric Copeland,
Flash Fearless,
Bad Manners,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Victims,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Derrick Morgan,
Max Romeo,
Jeff Lynne,
Mad Mike,
World's Most,
Sonny Sharrock,
Anakelly,
Mr. Review,
Metal Thangz,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
8 Eyed Spy,
One Last Wish,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Joe Finger,
Dead Boys,
Colin Newman,
Juan Atkins,
Lucky Dragons,
The Fall,
Wally Richardson,
Unrelated Segments,
Spoonie Gee,
Bauhaus,
Jacques Brel,
Mars,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Blackbyrds,
Mandrill,
Albert Ayler,
Simply Red,
Guru Guru,
Gong,
The Last Poets,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Alice Coltrane,
Kayak,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Tomorrow,
Blancmange,
The Names,
Erasure,
Matthew Halsall,
Althea and Donna,
Clear Light,
Crash Course in Science,
Morten Harket, Morten Harket, Morten Harket, Morten Harket.
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.