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 San Marino and from Lille.
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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Terror Squad Feat. Camron to the dance kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 CMW. All the underground hits.
All Television Personalities tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Hoover 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T. Rex record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Circle Jerks,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Walker Brothers,
Roy Ayers,
Young Marble Giants,
A Certain Ratio,
Rapeman,
Ituana,
Simply Red,
Fugazi,
Pole,
The Gories,
Girls At Our Best!,
Sam Rivers,
Amon Düül,
ABBA,
Can,
Jerry's Kids,
DNA,
Newcleus,
Inner City,
The Barracudas,
Cybotron,
Anakelly,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Janne Schatter,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Magazine,
Bad Manners,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Golliwogs,
Marcia Griffiths,
T. Rex,
the Normal,
Joy Division,
Andrew Hill,
The Martian,
Saccharine Trust,
Bizarre Inc.,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Jeru the Damaja,
Sex Pistols,
Quando Quango,
UT,
a-ha,
X-102,
The Stooges,
Technova,
Tim Buckley,
Infiniti,
Al Stewart,
Marine Girls,
Jimmy McGriff,
Harmonia,
Black Pus,
Skriet,
Magma,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Jawbox,
Idris Muhammad,
Vladislav Delay, Vladislav Delay, Vladislav Delay, Vladislav Delay.
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.