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 Oman and from Bologna.
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 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Traffic Nightmare to the punk 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 The Pretty Things. All the underground hits.
All Pharoah Sanders tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Niagra record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Visage 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?
Deepchord,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Detroit Cobras,
Cybotron,
John Foxx,
Can,
The Index,
Nils Olav,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Intrusion,
The Smiths,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Danielle Patucci,
The Black Dice,
Roxy Music,
La Düsseldorf,
Joy Division,
Minny Pops,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Arthur Verocai,
Wings,
The Move,
Amon Düül II,
Toni Rubio,
The Busters,
Youth Brigade,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Terry Callier,
Jesper Dahlback,
EPMD,
Lower 48,
The Real Kids,
Roger Hodgson,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Anakelly,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
ABBA,
the Germs,
The Remains,
Mandrill,
Soul Sonic Force,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Minnie Riperton,
Harry Pussy,
Lungfish,
Accadde A,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Scratch Acid,
Lucky Dragons,
Joey Negro,
Bill Near,
Con Funk Shun,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
E-Dancer,
Guru Guru,
Livin' Joy,
Albert Ayler,
Section 25,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Knickerbockers, The Knickerbockers, The Knickerbockers, The Knickerbockers.
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.