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 Canada and from Houston.
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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson to the techno 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 Deepchord. All the underground hits.
All Red Lorry Yellow Lorry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pharoah Sanders record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 a harpsichord and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Banda Bassotti record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kaleidoscope,
The Sound,
Electric Prunes,
Nik Kershaw,
Shoche,
Alton Ellis,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Thompson Twins,
The Fall,
Camberwell Now,
The Cowsills,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Roxette,
Sex Pistols,
Byron Stingily,
The Happenings,
Hoover,
Goldenarms,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Babytalk,
Q65,
Agent Orange,
Parry Music,
Mission of Burma,
Sixth Finger,
The Divine Comedy,
Black Moon,
R.M.O.,
Black Bananas,
Bill Near,
KRS-One,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Iggy Pop,
The Gun Club,
Simply Red,
Amon Düül II,
X-Ray Spex,
Deepchord,
Deadbeat,
Khruangbin,
Pylon,
Eddi Front,
Stockholm Monsters,
June of 44,
The Stooges,
David Axelrod,
Jerry's Kids,
Gerry Rafferty,
Fela Kuti,
Mantronix,
Peter & Gordon,
Urselle,
Make Up,
Lee Hazlewood,
Gregory Isaacs,
ABBA,
Nils Olav,
Trumans Water,
Second Layer,
The Standells,
Marc Almond,
Arab on Radar,
Amazonics, Amazonics, Amazonics, Amazonics.
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.