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 Argentina and from Toronto.
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 1967 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 arpeggiator 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 Ken Boothe to the funk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Ponytail. All the underground hits.
All Lou Reed tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sällskapet 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bob Dylan record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron 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 Modern Lovers,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Boredoms,
Boz Scaggs,
The Cramps,
Zapp,
Scan 7,
Fluxion,
Avey Tare,
Pierre Henry,
Sight & Sound,
Malaria!,
Echospace,
Kool Moe Dee,
New Age Steppers,
The Victims,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Joy Division,
Graham Central Station,
Crash Course in Science,
Liliput,
Jesper Dahlback,
T.S.O.L.,
Das Ding,
Little Man,
The Offenders,
Robert Görl,
Qualms,
Bobby Womack,
Bootsy Collins,
Section 25,
Reagan Youth,
Silicon Teens,
Sam Rivers,
Alton Ellis,
The Gladiators,
Fatback Band,
Cameo,
Make Up,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Joe Finger,
The Pretty Things,
Peter & Gordon,
Sixth Finger,
Prince Buster,
The Dirtbombs,
Traffic Nightmare,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Jacob Miller,
Mary Jane Girls,
U.S. Maple,
Tommy Roe,
The Standells,
The Leaves,
Curtis Mayfield,
Tubeway Army,
Wings,
Bush Tetras,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Evens,
Tim Buckley, Tim Buckley, Tim Buckley, Tim Buckley.
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.