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 Japan and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 harpsichord 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 Bluetip to the grunge 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 Goldenarms. All the underground hits.
All Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Oblivians 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Danielle Patucci record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Popol Vuh,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Slick Rick,
Frankie Knuckles,
Marine Girls,
Hot Snakes,
Crash Course in Science,
Skriet,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Mo-Dettes,
Joyce Sims,
Ultra Naté,
Dorothy Ashby,
Gang Starr,
The Neon Judgement,
Sun Ra,
Scrapy,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Motorama,
The Walker Brothers,
Amazonics,
June of 44,
Lungfish,
Hasil Adkins,
Joy Division,
The Techniques,
Supertramp,
Agitation Free,
Joe Smooth,
The Shadows of Knight,
Gong,
Scientists,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Pantaleimon,
Fugazi,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Icehouse,
Nas,
Barclay James Harvest,
Derrick May,
The Busters,
Los Fastidios,
Bang On A Can,
June Days,
Eve St. Jones,
The Tremeloes,
Aural Exciters,
Nico,
The Fugs,
Amon Düül II,
Eric Copeland,
Swell Maps,
Lower 48,
Soulsonic Force,
Pylon,
Alison Limerick,
Simply Red,
Inner City,
Ohio Players,
Little Man,
Connie Case,
Pulsallama,
Rapeman, Rapeman, Rapeman, Rapeman.
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.