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 Czech Republic and from Sao Paulo.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Whodini to the rock kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Todd Rundgren. All the underground hits.
All Patti Smith tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Alarm Clocks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Wake record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scientists,
Radio Birdman,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Fluxion,
PIL,
The Music Machine,
Severed Heads,
Michelle Simonal,
The Beau Brummels,
Dark Day,
Junior Murvin,
Bobby Sherman,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
DNA,
kango's stein massive,
KRS-One,
The United States of America,
The Searchers,
The Doobie Brothers,
Kaleidoscope,
Public Image Ltd.,
Masters at Work,
Fela Kuti,
One Last Wish,
The Detroit Cobras,
Ultravox,
Theoretical Girls,
The Motions,
The Velvet Underground,
Sonic Youth,
Organ,
Scratch Acid,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Marvin Gaye,
Swell Maps,
Simply Red,
Bizarre Inc.,
Nas,
Pantytec,
Joyce Sims,
Crime,
Qualms,
Rotary Connection,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Brand Nubian,
Wings,
Con Funk Shun,
Cecil Taylor,
Oblivians,
Bush Tetras,
The Walker Brothers,
Mission of Burma,
Zapp,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Grandmaster Flash,
Bang On A Can,
Gichy Dan,
Intrusion,
Crash Course in Science,
the Soft Cell,
Stetsasonic,
Moss Icon,
Sparks, Sparks, Sparks, Sparks.
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.