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 Guatemala and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 mellotron 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 Men They Couldn't Hang to the punk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Ice-T. All the underground hits.
All Lafayette Afro Rock Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Country Joe & The Fish 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pantaleimon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
UT,
La Düsseldorf,
Man Parrish,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Magazine,
Fugazi,
Clear Light,
Faraquet,
June of 44,
The Doobie Brothers,
Albert Ayler,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Iggy Pop,
Pere Ubu,
The Searchers,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Black Sheep,
Lyres,
Von Mondo,
Howard Jones,
Eurythmics,
Letta Mbulu,
Prince Buster,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Khruangbin,
Scion,
Gong,
Swell Maps,
a-ha,
DJ Sneak,
Laurel Aitken,
The Invisible,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Bobby Byrd,
kango's stein massive,
Terry Callier,
Amon Düül II,
Carl Craig,
Lebanon Hanover,
Tropical Tobacco,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
David McCallum,
Pulsallama,
Gil Scott Heron,
Goldenarms,
John Holt,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Lee Hazlewood,
Masters at Work,
DNA,
Soft Cell,
Mission of Burma,
Steve Hackett,
Talk Talk,
Stereo Dub,
DJ Style,
Bob Dylan,
Roxette,
Bootsy Collins,
The Techniques,
The Pretty Things, The Pretty Things, The Pretty Things, The Pretty Things.
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.