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 Nauru and from Calgary.
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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 guitar 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 Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines to the dance kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Eric Copeland. All the underground hits.
All Kings Of Tomorrow tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Niagra record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Davy DMX record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Techniques,
Icehouse,
Lalann,
Talk Talk,
Black Bananas,
Minor Threat,
The Evens,
Crooked Eye,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Little Man,
Skarface,
E-Dancer,
DJ Sneak,
Quando Quango,
Gang Green,
The Fuzztones,
Interpol,
The American Breed,
Nik Kershaw,
Wasted Youth,
The Cowsills,
Gichy Dan,
Circle Jerks,
Alton Ellis,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Dave Gahan,
Rites of Spring,
Marcia Griffiths,
Lee Hazlewood,
Barbara Tucker,
Animal Collective,
Bill Near,
Excepter,
Gang Gang Dance,
the Soft Cell,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Doors,
Sällskapet,
Shuggie Otis,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Althea and Donna,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Japan,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Eric Dolphy,
Lebanon Hanover,
Barry Ungar,
Newcleus,
Max Romeo,
Brand Nubian,
The Cramps,
Slick Rick,
Theoretical Girls,
T. Rex,
Country Teasers,
Tomorrow,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Byron Stingily,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Busters,
Simply Red,
The Smiths, The Smiths, The Smiths, The Smiths.
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.