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 Comoros and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Bremen.
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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Bar-Kays to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Fire Engines. All the underground hits.
All The Modern Lovers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Toni Rubio record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Flesh Eaters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wasted Youth,
Sly & The Family Stone,
LL Cool J,
Idris Muhammad,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Infiniti,
Neil Young,
Frankie Knuckles,
F. McDonald,
Rekid,
Faraquet,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Aaron Thompson,
Kevin Saunderson,
Tres Demented,
Delta 5,
Yaz,
The Standells,
Terrestrial Tones,
Bizarre Inc.,
Ultravox,
Kaleidoscope,
Minutemen,
Babytalk,
Minny Pops,
Radiopuhelimet,
Erykah Badu,
Sällskapet,
Suicide,
Graham Central Station,
Bang On A Can,
Tommy Roe,
Inner City,
Joy Division,
Kenny Larkin,
The Birthday Party,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
David Axelrod,
Vladislav Delay,
Ohio Players,
Slick Rick,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Simply Red,
Section 25,
Tim Buckley,
Adolescents,
Crispy Ambulance,
Tomorrow,
Lyres,
the Human League,
Black Sheep,
Lebanon Hanover,
Kurtis Blow,
Gregory Isaacs,
Judy Mowatt,
Banda Bassotti,
Y Pants,
Outsiders,
Harpers Bizarre,
Das Ding,
ABBA, ABBA, ABBA, ABBA.
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.