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 Kazakhstan and from Copenhagen.
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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Country Teasers to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Fela Kuti. All the underground hits.
All De La Soul & Jungle Brothers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Stiv Bators record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Angels of Light,
Andrew Hill,
Trumans Water,
Schoolly D,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Modern Lovers,
These Immortal Souls,
Slick Rick,
Brick,
The Neon Judgement,
F. McDonald,
Procol Harum,
The J.B.'s,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Harry Pussy,
The Beau Brummels,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
cv313,
The Raincoats,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The United States of America,
The Flesh Eaters,
Vladislav Delay,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Lungfish,
Bluetip,
Clear Light,
Dave Gahan,
Erykah Badu,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Spandau Ballet,
Eddi Front,
Toni Rubio,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Ronnie Foster,
Tomorrow,
Metal Thangz,
Los Fastidios,
Hasil Adkins,
The Selecter,
Adolescents,
Howard Jones,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Eric Copeland,
Harmonia,
Johnny Clarke,
Duran Duran,
The Star Department,
The Motions,
One Last Wish,
Section 25,
Grauzone,
Qualms,
Godley & Creme,
The Sisters of Mercy,
New York Dolls,
CMW,
Black Pus,
The Searchers,
The American Breed,
Yaz,
Derrick May,
Siouxsie and the Banshees, Siouxsie and the Banshees, Siouxsie and the Banshees, Siouxsie and the Banshees.
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.