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 Qatar and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the sitar 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 Mandrill to the punk 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 The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band. All the underground hits.
All Make Up tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bang On A Can record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a güiro 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 chamberlin and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pagans,
The Index,
Black Moon,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Steve Hackett,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Max Romeo,
Curtis Mayfield,
Maurizio,
The Happenings,
Gerry Rafferty,
Pussy Galore,
Flash Fearless,
Gabor Szabo,
Eurythmics,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Dirtbombs,
Skarface,
Warren Ellis,
Eve St. Jones,
La Düsseldorf,
The Human League,
Bad Manners,
Stetsasonic,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Pulsallama,
Pierre Henry,
Panda Bear,
Radiohead,
Cameo,
The Slits,
Donny Hathaway,
Funkadelic,
Todd Terry,
Anakelly,
Albert Ayler,
Minny Pops,
Rapeman,
Piero Umiliani,
Nirvana,
Rites of Spring,
Gastr Del Sol,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Aswad,
Gang Gang Dance,
Nick Fraelich,
Barbara Tucker,
Pantytec,
Scott Walker,
Icehouse,
Crispy Ambulance,
Cecil Taylor,
Marine Girls,
E-Dancer,
Buzzcocks,
The Blues Magoos,
Thee Headcoats,
Boz Scaggs,
Grandmaster Flash,
Lakeside,
Faraquet,
Amazonics,
D'Angelo, D'Angelo, D'Angelo, D'Angelo.
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.