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 Andorra and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 theremin 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 The Blues Magoos to the grime 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 Con Funk Shun. All the underground hits.
All Lee Hazlewood tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Be Bop Deluxe 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 a marimba and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Faraquet record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Fire Engines,
The Walker Brothers,
Arcadia,
The Fuzztones,
Saccharine Trust,
World's Most,
Bang On A Can,
L. Decosne,
Pere Ubu,
The Happenings,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Minutemen,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Harpers Bizarre,
Bauhaus,
The Gories,
Desert Stars,
Sexual Harrassment,
Sandy B,
Franke,
The Toasters,
Rufus Thomas,
Yusef Lateef,
Hot Snakes,
The Doobie Brothers,
Mandrill,
Siglo XX,
Sex Pistols,
KRS-One,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
John Cale,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Tomorrow,
Bootsy Collins,
Rakim,
Yazoo,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Jeru the Damaja,
Talk Talk,
Barry Ungar,
Ornette Coleman,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Urselle,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Bobby Womack,
Cal Tjader,
The Divine Comedy,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Moss Icon,
Hardrive,
Robert Hood,
Basic Channel,
T. Rex,
Babytalk,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Pulsallama,
Second Layer,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Cybotron,
The Smoke,
Smog,
Pagans,
Frankie Knuckles, Frankie Knuckles, Frankie Knuckles, Frankie Knuckles.
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.