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 Australia and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 The Saints to the techno kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Bill Wells. All the underground hits.
All Bobbi Humphrey tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every James Chance & The Contortions record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 sitar and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Chrome 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?
Rites of Spring,
Intrusion,
Roger Hodgson,
Steve Hackett,
Eden Ahbez,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Mr. Review,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Underground Resistance,
Organ,
Todd Rundgren,
Half Japanese,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Smoke,
Anthony Braxton,
U.S. Maple,
Nation of Ulysses,
Terry Callier,
The Fall,
The Fortunes,
Cal Tjader,
Flamin' Groovies,
Gabor Szabo,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Surgeon,
Theoretical Girls,
Das Ding,
Severed Heads,
Los Fastidios,
Peter and Kerry,
Malaria!,
Crispy Ambulance,
Pylon,
Saccharine Trust,
Wire,
The Modern Lovers,
Sun City Girls,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Zapp,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Pet Shop Boys,
Erasure,
Roxette,
Toni Rubio,
Ultra Naté,
Pere Ubu,
Country Teasers,
The Durutti Column,
Mary Jane Girls,
Silicon Teens,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Dennis Brown,
Eurythmics,
Massinfluence,
Animal Collective,
Pulsallama,
The Sound,
Eve St. Jones,
Maleditus Sound,
Gichy Dan, Gichy Dan, Gichy Dan, Gichy Dan.
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.