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 Cuba and from Mexico City.
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 1960 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Throbbing Gristle to the jazz 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 The Chocolate Watch Band. All the underground hits.
All The Fire Engines tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Roy Ayers 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Arab on Radar record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Interpol,
The Vogues,
Audionom,
The Victims,
Chris & Cosey,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Joensuu 1685,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Jacques Brel,
Technova,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Smoke,
Agent Orange,
Joe Smooth,
Neil Young,
Absolute Body Control,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Ultravox,
B.T. Express,
Rhythm & Sound,
Sam Rivers,
Althea and Donna,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Sound,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Lower 48,
The Pop Group,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Modern Lovers,
The Angels of Light,
The J.B.'s,
The Moleskins,
Sight & Sound,
Pylon,
The Blues Magoos,
Ultra Naté,
The Litter,
Marcia Griffiths,
Scrapy,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Brand Nubian,
kango's stein massive,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Gang Green,
OOIOO,
Ronnie Foster,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Sister Nancy,
Toni Rubio,
Robert Görl,
Piero Umiliani,
Royal Trux,
the Sonics,
Tom Boy,
China Crisis,
Eden Ahbez,
Susan Cadogan,
Franke,
Donny Hathaway,
CMW,
UT,
Soul II Soul, Soul II Soul, Soul II Soul, Soul II Soul.
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.