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 Croatia and from Paris.
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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
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 Von Mondo to the rap kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Pretty Things. All the underground hits.
All Gary Puckett & The Union Gap tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Glambeats Corp. 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Young Marble Giants record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kerri Chandler,
Malaria!,
Big Daddy Kane,
Black Sheep,
Roy Ayers,
Q and Not U,
Schoolly D,
The Human League,
The Moleskins,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Birthday Party,
Pussy Galore,
Prince Buster,
Jesper Dahlback,
JFA,
Gang Green,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
New York Dolls,
Das Ding,
The Tremeloes,
Tomorrow,
Moby Grape,
Whodini,
Suicide,
Lower 48,
Interpol,
Saccharine Trust,
John Cale,
Nils Olav,
Magma,
World's Most,
Jawbox,
Delta 5,
Slave,
Icehouse,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Television Personalities,
Dark Day,
Alice Coltrane,
Donald Byrd,
Desert Stars,
Johnny Clarke,
Grey Daturas,
Parry Music,
Section 25,
Hardrive,
Ten City,
Rod Modell,
Sparks,
Circle Jerks,
The Index,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
X-Ray Spex,
Roxette,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Shadows of Knight,
Barclay James Harvest,
Dave Gahan, Dave Gahan, Dave Gahan, Dave Gahan.
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.