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 San Marino and from Woodstock.
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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 X-Ray Spex to the rock kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Pet Shop Boys. All the underground hits.
All Circle Jerks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every ABBA 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Goldenarms record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ituana,
Nik Kershaw,
The Walker Brothers,
Fela Kuti,
Johnny Clarke,
Radiohead,
The Fire Engines,
Gang Starr,
Severed Heads,
Outsiders,
Boz Scaggs,
Brick,
Gang Gang Dance,
the Normal,
Freddie Wadling,
The Flesh Eaters,
Michelle Simonal,
X-Ray Spex,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Panda Bear,
Minutemen,
Moss Icon,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Wasted Youth,
Max Romeo,
David McCallum,
Bluetip,
Sugar Minott,
Lindisfarne,
MC5,
the Swans,
Jacob Miller,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Count Five,
Dawn Penn,
the Bar-Kays,
Tres Demented,
Fluxion,
Warren Ellis,
Soul Sonic Force,
Bobby Byrd,
Goldenarms,
The Electric Prunes,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Suicide,
Minnie Riperton,
Nirvana,
The Happenings,
Bobby Sherman,
Zero Boys,
New Age Steppers,
The Raincoats,
Hardrive,
Cecil Taylor,
Wolf Eyes,
The Saints,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Leaves,
Idris Muhammad, Idris Muhammad, Idris Muhammad, Idris Muhammad.
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.