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 Swaziland and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 theremin 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 Ronnie Foster to the electroclash 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 The Martian. All the underground hits.
All The Misunderstood tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Cure record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a rhodes 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 oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Alphaville,
The Selecter,
the Sonics,
Agitation Free,
Glenn Branca,
Terry Callier,
Darondo,
Ludus,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Black Pus,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
the Human League,
Hot Snakes,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Donald Byrd,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Toasters,
Lyres,
Masters at Work,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Happenings,
Cecil Taylor,
Quando Quango,
Arthur Verocai,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Howard Jones,
Kayak,
Tubeway Army,
Vladislav Delay,
Mary Jane Girls,
Whodini,
Joe Smooth,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Grey Daturas,
The Durutti Column,
The Blackbyrds,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Funky Four + One,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Fugs,
the Normal,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Duran Duran,
D'Angelo,
Surgeon,
The Vogues,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Red Krayola,
Eli Mardock,
the Slits,
X-Ray Spex,
Cal Tjader,
Janne Schatter,
Thee Headcoats,
The Dead C,
Fat Boys,
DJ Style,
Johnny Clarke,
Gil Scott Heron,
The American Breed,
B.T. Express,
The Gun Club, The Gun Club, The Gun Club, The Gun Club.
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.