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 Afghanistan and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1964 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 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 Zapp to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Alphaville. All the underground hits.
All The Remains tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every T. Rex record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Barclay James Harvest record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Holt,
Althea and Donna,
Section 25,
Ultravox,
Vladislav Delay,
ABBA,
Moby Grape,
Iggy Pop,
Big Daddy Kane,
Sex Pistols,
Drive Like Jehu,
Al Stewart,
Absolute Body Control,
Los Fastidios,
the Swans,
Dual Sessions,
James White and The Blacks,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Qualms,
Roxette,
Mission of Burma,
Parry Music,
Urselle,
David Axelrod,
Reagan Youth,
Rites of Spring,
Skriet,
The Gap Band,
Eve St. Jones,
Dave Gahan,
Scratch Acid,
Hot Snakes,
One Last Wish,
Animal Collective,
Suicide,
Lucky Dragons,
The New Christs,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Fortunes,
Bill Wells,
DJ Style,
The Move,
Sound Behaviour,
John Foxx,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Gang Starr,
Television Personalities,
Drexciya,
Terry Callier,
Man Eating Sloth,
Sonic Youth,
Lebanon Hanover,
Thee Headcoats,
Radiopuhelimet,
Don Cherry,
Cecil Taylor,
The Golliwogs,
A Certain Ratio,
The Angels of Light,
Wolf Eyes,
Oblivians,
Henry Cow,
Roy Ayers,
Second Layer,
Brand Nubian, Brand Nubian, Brand Nubian, Brand Nubian.
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.