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 Peru and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Dirtbombs to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 The Pretty Things. All the underground hits.
All Buzzcocks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Bar-Kays record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Invisible,
Clear Light,
Mad Mike,
Tropical Tobacco,
Terry Callier,
The Techniques,
the Germs,
Surgeon,
Ohio Players,
Big Daddy Kane,
Radiopuhelimet,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Hot Snakes,
The Angels of Light,
The Red Krayola,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Stiv Bators,
Minutemen,
ABBA,
Mantronix,
The Mojo Men,
Althea and Donna,
Graham Central Station,
Bobby Womack,
Outsiders,
Sight & Sound,
The Buckinghams,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Slick Rick,
Black Sheep,
Bronski Beat,
The Slackers,
Angry Samoans,
Wasted Youth,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Neu!,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Stooges,
Arthur Verocai,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
In Retrospect,
Sister Nancy,
Ronan,
David Bowie,
The Music Machine,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Godley & Creme,
DJ Sneak,
The Blackbyrds,
Matthew Bourne,
David Axelrod,
The Remains,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
LL Cool J,
The Sound,
John Holt,
Hoover,
Suburban Knight,
Marshall Jefferson,
Tom Boy,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Five Americans,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Soulsonic Force, Soulsonic Force, Soulsonic Force, Soulsonic Force.
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.