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 Czech Republic and from Hong Kong.
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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Terrestrial Tones to the disco 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 Clear Light. All the underground hits.
All The Dirtbombs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eric B and Rakim record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Remains record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer 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?
Fort Wilson Riot,
Bauhaus,
Black Sheep,
Lucky Dragons,
Soft Cell,
Arab on Radar,
Jeff Mills,
Kerri Chandler,
Kerrie Biddell,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Ronan,
F. McDonald,
Scion,
The Electric Prunes,
World's Most,
Glambeats Corp.,
ABBA,
Robert Wyatt,
Frankie Knuckles,
Oblivians,
Underground Resistance,
Barbara Tucker,
Lou Reed,
The Walker Brothers,
Das Ding,
Mark Hollis,
The Selecter,
Alton Ellis,
Robert Hood,
Fugazi,
Gichy Dan,
Surgeon,
Ten City,
David Bowie,
Terry Callier,
Bizarre Inc.,
Funkadelic,
DJ Style,
Roger Hodgson,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Suicide,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Cramps,
Jesper Dahlback,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Cluster,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Bill Wells,
Jawbox,
Howard Jones,
Amon Düül II,
Gabor Szabo,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Deepchord,
Outsiders,
Liliput,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Fat Boys,
Flash Fearless,
Swell Maps,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Man Parrish, Man Parrish, Man Parrish, Man Parrish.
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.