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 Uzbekistan and from Taipei.
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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Lagos.
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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the güiro 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 Harry Pussy to the punk 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 Amazonics. All the underground hits.
All Interpol tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every T. Rex record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Althea and Donna record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Animal Collective,
Heaven 17,
Rhythm & Sound,
Eli Mardock,
Quadrant,
Oblivians,
Accadde A,
Boogie Down Productions,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Dirtbombs,
Ken Boothe,
Drive Like Jehu,
Unrelated Segments,
Davy DMX,
Sugar Minott,
Goldenarms,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Ponytail,
Delon & Dalcan,
London Community Gospel Choir,
DNA,
Infiniti,
Lalo Schifrin,
Black Moon,
Robert Hood,
Kas Product,
Young Marble Giants,
Deadbeat,
Gil Scott Heron,
Parry Music,
The Invisible,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Das Ding,
Amazonics,
Yaz,
Terry Callier,
Stockholm Monsters,
Mantronix,
Sarah Menescal,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Joy Division,
Franke,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Soft Machine,
Graham Central Station,
The Gun Club,
The Skatalites,
Henry Cow,
The Blues Magoos,
Monks,
ABC,
Fat Boys,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Pretty Things,
Outsiders,
Siglo XX,
Todd Rundgren,
Lightning Bolt,
Ultra Naté,
The Sound,
Surgeon,
Aswad, Aswad, Aswad, Aswad.
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.