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 Korea South and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1962 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Real Kids 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 Jeff Mills. All the underground hits.
All Derrick Morgan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Grauzone 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ossler record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Monks,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Busters,
Camouflage,
Scion,
Make Up,
Angry Samoans,
Intrusion,
Blossom Toes,
Q and Not U,
Easy Going,
The Blackbyrds,
Reagan Youth,
Saccharine Trust,
The Young Rascals,
The Red Krayola,
The Birthday Party,
The Dirtbombs,
Maleditus Sound,
The Electric Prunes,
Avey Tare,
The Modern Lovers,
Sonic Youth,
Pussy Galore,
Flamin' Groovies,
Terry Callier,
Porter Ricks,
Dawn Penn,
Nas,
Wasted Youth,
Jeru the Damaja,
Crash Course in Science,
Curtis Mayfield,
Gang Green,
Ten City,
Roger Hodgson,
Juan Atkins,
Man Eating Sloth,
Bluetip,
Eden Ahbez,
Lucky Dragons,
The Remains,
X-101,
Agent Orange,
Gabor Szabo,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Raincoats,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Steve Hackett,
David Axelrod,
Radio Birdman,
John Lydon,
Adolescents,
Thee Headcoats,
Amazonics,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Andrew Hill,
Stiv Bators,
The Mummies,
Soft Machine, Soft Machine, Soft Machine, Soft Machine.
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.