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 Ukraine and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Khruangbin to the rock 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 Rapeman. All the underground hits.
All Qualms tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lucky Dragons 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 synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Associates record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Martian,
Darondo,
Accadde A,
The Searchers,
Das Ding,
Rod Modell,
Grandmaster Flash,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Sonics,
Wings,
Wire,
Flipper,
Heaven 17,
Lebanon Hanover,
B.T. Express,
Lalann,
Mr. Review,
Soft Machine,
Jerry's Kids,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Oblivians,
Rosa Yemen,
The Sound,
Kayak,
Hot Snakes,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Pierre Henry,
The Walker Brothers,
Pet Shop Boys,
Soft Cell,
The Wake,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Alarm Clocks,
Motorama,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Techniques,
Clear Light,
The Cowsills,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Banda Bassotti,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
These Immortal Souls,
Porter Ricks,
June Days,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
ABC,
Shoche,
Duran Duran,
Royal Trux,
Marc Almond,
Eve St. Jones,
Malaria!,
The Five Americans,
Byron Stingily,
the Association,
The Pop Group,
Soul II Soul,
The Cure,
Dave Gahan, Dave Gahan, Dave Gahan, Dave Gahan.
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.