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 Denmark and from Tehran.
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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Stetsasonic to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 The Birthday Party. All the underground hits.
All Roy Ayers Ubiquity tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sun Ra Arkestra 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rapeman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ossler,
Reuben Wilson,
X-102,
Soul II Soul,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Grass Roots,
Thompson Twins,
Susan Cadogan,
The Monochrome Set,
Duran Duran,
The Evens,
Skarface,
The Zeros,
Skaos,
the Association,
Bobby Sherman,
Andrew Hill,
Mantronix,
Kenny Larkin,
The United States of America,
Ash Ra Tempel,
48th St. Collective,
Spandau Ballet,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Warsaw,
Guru Guru,
Henry Cow,
a-ha,
Nation of Ulysses,
Brand Nubian,
Brothers Johnson,
The Fortunes,
Public Enemy,
Crime,
The Fire Engines,
Faust,
The Saints,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Remains,
Procol Harum,
Black Bananas,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Big Daddy Kane,
Jacques Brel,
the Normal,
The Sisters of Mercy,
R.M.O.,
The Moody Blues,
Gerry Rafferty,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Matthew Halsall,
Shoche,
Cal Tjader,
The Doors,
Visage,
Moby Grape,
MC5,
Maleditus Sound,
Masters at Work,
The J.B.'s,
Jacob Miller,
The Cramps,
The Sonics, The Sonics, The Sonics, The Sonics.
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.