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 Sierra Leone and from Glasgow.
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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the oboe 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 Youth Brigade to the dance 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 Bad Manners. All the underground hits.
All The Jesus and Mary Chain tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wally Richardson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bang On A Can,
Aaron Thompson,
X-102,
Moss Icon,
Amon Düül,
The American Breed,
The Shadows of Knight,
the Bar-Kays,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Residents,
Gerry Rafferty,
Nas,
Iggy Pop,
Lou Christie,
Camouflage,
Livin' Joy,
Quadrant,
The Doors,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
New York Dolls,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Traffic Nightmare,
Animal Collective,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Kinks,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Sandy B,
Pere Ubu,
The Sonics,
Saccharine Trust,
Tubeway Army,
Icehouse,
MC5,
Eurythmics,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Grey Daturas,
David Bowie,
The Trojans,
Cameo,
Oneida,
Byron Stingily,
DNA,
Dennis Brown,
Blancmange,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Standells,
Urselle,
Lungfish,
Symarip,
The Dirtbombs,
Sex Pistols,
Thee Headcoats,
Archie Shepp,
The Raincoats,
Bizarre Inc.,
Excepter,
Desert Stars,
Fear,
Graham Central Station,
The Searchers,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Loose Ends,
Crime,
Mad Mike, Mad Mike, Mad Mike, Mad Mike.
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.