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 Samoa and from Glasgow.
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 Hong Kong and Bologna.
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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Strawberry Alarm Clock to the rap kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Wasted Youth. All the underground hits.
All Aaron Thompson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Standells 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Strawberry Alarm Clock record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Doors,
Blossom Toes,
Harpers Bizarre,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Grey Daturas,
OOIOO,
10cc,
MDC,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
the Germs,
Banda Bassotti,
Scratch Acid,
Brand Nubian,
Rhythm & Sound,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Cramps,
Simply Red,
Peter and Kerry,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Black Flag,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Livin' Joy,
Freddie Wadling,
The Zeros,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Eurythmics,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Mandrill,
the Soft Cell,
The Raincoats,
The Modern Lovers,
Matthew Halsall,
Theoretical Girls,
Agitation Free,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Alarm Clocks,
Johnny Osbourne,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Mark Hollis,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Slackers,
Arthur Verocai,
Soft Machine,
Traffic Nightmare,
Leonard Cohen,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Aswad,
Pantaleimon,
It's A Beautiful Day,
FM Einheit,
Nas,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Outsiders,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Crash Course in Science,
Skarface,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Gap Band,
The Human League,
The Cowsills,
Chris Corsano,
The Velvet Underground,
Deakin, Deakin, Deakin, Deakin.
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.