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 Lesotho and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 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 The Dave Clark Five to the techno kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Buckinghams. All the underground hits.
All The Alarm Clocks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Glenn Branca record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Red Lorry Yellow Lorry record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mo-Dettes,
The New Christs,
The Move,
Arthur Verocai,
Tres Demented,
Technova,
The Electric Prunes,
Gabor Szabo,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Pagans,
The Trojans,
Warsaw,
Hasil Adkins,
Maleditus Sound,
X-Ray Spex,
The Detroit Cobras,
Liliput,
Main Source,
OOIOO,
Rod Modell,
Magma,
Boz Scaggs,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Slackers,
K-Klass,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Dirtbombs,
Robert Hood,
The Moody Blues,
The Cure,
Neil Young,
Bill Near,
Terrestrial Tones,
B.T. Express,
The Saints,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Durutti Column,
The Five Americans,
Funkadelic,
In Retrospect,
Inner City,
Matthew Halsall,
Los Fastidios,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Young Rascals,
Mark Hollis,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Warren Ellis,
Schoolly D,
Moby Grape,
Khruangbin,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Ituana,
Goldenarms,
Bauhaus,
Bronski Beat,
Bob Dylan, Bob Dylan, Bob Dylan, Bob Dylan.
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.