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 Mauritania and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1964 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Au Pairs to the electroclash 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 Moss Icon. All the underground hits.
All Lou Reed & John Cale tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Livin' Joy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T.S.O.L. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes 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?
Albert Ayler,
Scrapy,
Angry Samoans,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Joyce Sims,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Fad Gadget,
The Dirtbombs,
Davy DMX,
Derrick Morgan,
Al Stewart,
Quando Quango,
the Bar-Kays,
Eric Dolphy,
The Modern Lovers,
Andrew Hill,
The Index,
Terry Callier,
Black Sheep,
The Offenders,
Gichy Dan,
Funky Four + One,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Skatalites,
Mr. Review,
Swans,
The Durutti Column,
Harry Pussy,
Masters at Work,
Chris & Cosey,
Symarip,
Sixth Finger,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Reagan Youth,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Pere Ubu,
New Age Steppers,
Stiv Bators,
Television Personalities,
Eli Mardock,
Ultravox,
The Zeros,
The Standells,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Tropical Tobacco,
X-Ray Spex,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Con Funk Shun,
cv313,
Groovy Waters,
Avey Tare,
Barclay James Harvest,
Qualms,
the Slits,
Faraquet,
The Tremeloes,
The Wake,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Mark Hollis,
Boogie Down Productions,
Index, Index, Index, Index.
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.