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 Papua New Guinea and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1961 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Sisters of Mercy to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Accadde A. All the underground hits.
All Metal Thangz tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Skriet record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 an arpeggiator and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Royal Trux record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crispian St. Peters,
T.S.O.L.,
Rakim,
Marshall Jefferson,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Wolf Eyes,
John Holt,
Hoover,
Joe Smooth,
AZ,
Pylon,
Donny Hathaway,
Joensuu 1685,
Pulsallama,
The Wake,
David Bowie,
Lucky Dragons,
The Names,
The Monks,
Alison Limerick,
Tom Boy,
Todd Rundgren,
The Mojo Men,
Khruangbin,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Smiths,
Nik Kershaw,
Eurythmics,
Toni Rubio,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Bob Dylan,
Warren Ellis,
Altered Images,
Livin' Joy,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Ponytail,
Agent Orange,
In Retrospect,
The Divine Comedy,
Cheater Slicks,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Main Source,
The Skatalites,
Davy DMX,
Absolute Body Control,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Mantronix,
DJ Sneak,
Eddi Front,
The Last Poets,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
LL Cool J,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Harry Pussy,
Steve Hackett,
Lebanon Hanover,
Gil Scott Heron,
Gabor Szabo, Gabor Szabo, Gabor Szabo, Gabor Szabo.
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.