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 Tanzania and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 marimba 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 Men They Couldn't Hang to the grime kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Litter. All the underground hits.
All Joy Division tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Country Teasers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Isaac Hayes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sugar Minott,
Whodini,
The Martian,
Crispian St. Peters,
Jesper Dahlback,
Das Ding,
Brothers Johnson,
The Sound,
Laurel Aitken,
The Busters,
Grauzone,
Ohio Players,
The Remains,
John Holt,
Fluxion,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Funkadelic,
The Saints,
Sixth Finger,
L. Decosne,
Unrelated Segments,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Tropical Tobacco,
Kerri Chandler,
The Fire Engines,
DJ Sneak,
kango's stein massive,
Smog,
The Buckinghams,
Mandrill,
John Coltrane,
The Blackbyrds,
Grey Daturas,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Birthday Party,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Drexciya,
Jeru the Damaja,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
E-Dancer,
New York Dolls,
R.M.O.,
Infiniti,
the Sonics,
Brass Construction,
Pere Ubu,
Fela Kuti,
The Slackers,
Mars,
The Wake,
Crooked Eye,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Joe Finger,
The Modern Lovers,
The Moleskins,
Zapp,
Ten City,
Niagra,
T. Rex,
Carl Craig,
Malaria!,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The New Christs, The New Christs, The New Christs, The New Christs.
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.