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 Switzerland and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1969 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Fall to the funk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Mission of Burma. All the underground hits.
All Lebanon Hanover tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Massinfluence record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a David Bowie record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Moby Grape,
John Foxx,
Al Stewart,
Radiopuhelimet,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Monks,
Robert Wyatt,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Procol Harum,
Spandau Ballet,
Nik Kershaw,
Model 500,
Black Flag,
The Sisters of Mercy,
the Association,
Oblivians,
Monolake,
Marmalade,
Laurel Aitken,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Oneida,
Tommy Roe,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Gun Club,
Aswad,
The Divine Comedy,
Bob Dylan,
Cheater Slicks,
Goldenarms,
Black Bananas,
Maurizio,
Toni Rubio,
Juan Atkins,
The Litter,
Godley & Creme,
Heaven 17,
Jerry's Kids,
Lyres,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Barrington Levy,
Youth Brigade,
Loose Ends,
ABC,
Hardrive,
Ten City,
Alison Limerick,
K-Klass,
Gang Starr,
Black Sheep,
The Trojans,
Popol Vuh,
The Pretty Things,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
These Immortal Souls,
Electric Prunes,
Outsiders,
One Last Wish,
Unrelated Segments,
The Five Americans,
Rekid, Rekid, Rekid, Rekid.
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.