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 Bolivia and from Glasgow.
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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the oboe 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 Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo to the grunge kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Birthday Party. All the underground hits.
All The Martian tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rufus Thomas record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sex Pistols record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Blues Magoos,
Alphaville,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Victims,
Clear Light,
Smog,
Swell Maps,
Frankie Knuckles,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Adolescents,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Pop Group,
Monks,
T.S.O.L.,
FM Einheit,
Big Daddy Kane,
B.T. Express,
Deakin,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Dead Boys,
Iggy Pop,
Amon Düül,
Lower 48,
Average White Band,
Suicide,
Pantaleimon,
Cybotron,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Soulsonic Force,
Archie Shepp,
a-ha,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Flesh Eaters,
Tom Boy,
The Evens,
Tubeway Army,
Negative Approach,
The Associates,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Panda Bear,
Bronski Beat,
Lindisfarne,
Cameo,
Andrew Hill,
Scrapy,
Mandrill,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Faust,
Eddi Front,
Franke,
Duran Duran,
The Mummies,
Letta Mbulu,
The Knickerbockers,
Pagans,
The Happenings,
Harry Pussy,
Massinfluence,
Gong,
The Dave Clark Five,
Soul II Soul,
F. McDonald, F. McDonald, F. McDonald, F. McDonald.
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.