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 Vietnam and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Beijing.
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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Marine Girls to the rock kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Theoretical Girls. All the underground hits.
All Rufus Thomas tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Peter & Gordon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Interpol record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Matthew Halsall,
Pierre Henry,
Silicon Teens,
Scott Walker,
Sarah Menescal,
Susan Cadogan,
Harry Pussy,
The Cramps,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Vladislav Delay,
Dawn Penn,
Joe Smooth,
Bluetip,
Zapp,
Mark Hollis,
Ronan,
The Monochrome Set,
Parry Music,
Minnie Riperton,
John Lydon,
The Seeds,
Roger Hodgson,
the Normal,
Mars,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Doors,
Babytalk,
Absolute Body Control,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Barbara Tucker,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Tim Buckley,
Minny Pops,
Gang Green,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Urselle,
10cc,
Pere Ubu,
The Velvet Underground,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Eli Mardock,
ABBA,
Slave,
Bang On A Can,
Pussy Galore,
Fatback Band,
Throbbing Gristle,
Shoche,
Thee Headcoats,
H. Thieme,
Glenn Branca,
Dual Sessions,
Ralphi Rosario,
Donald Byrd,
Bad Manners,
ABC,
Arthur Verocai,
Kevin Saunderson,
Boredoms,
Steve Hackett,
This Heat,
Supertramp,
Whodini, Whodini, Whodini, Whodini.
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.