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 Kenya and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 theremin 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 Terrestrial Tones to the grunge kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Groovy Waters. All the underground hits.
All David Bowie tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Alarm Clocks 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Anakelly record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Kinks,
This Heat,
Fear,
Magma,
X-101,
Rakim,
Terrestrial Tones,
Sam Rivers,
Wasted Youth,
These Immortal Souls,
the Swans,
The Residents,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Black Flag,
Organ,
Barbara Tucker,
DNA,
Aural Exciters,
The Young Rascals,
The Durutti Column,
Flash Fearless,
Q and Not U,
Echospace,
R.M.O.,
Gang of Four,
The Index,
Iggy Pop,
Cymande,
Eurythmics,
Amon Düül II,
Grey Daturas,
Niagra,
The Blues Magoos,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
the Soft Cell,
Loose Ends,
Oblivians,
Josef K,
John Lydon,
X-Ray Spex,
Groovy Waters,
Swell Maps,
48th St. Collective,
Neu!,
Crooked Eye,
Kenny Larkin,
Scott Walker,
Au Pairs,
Rapeman,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Trojans,
John Holt,
Smog,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Mo-Dettes,
Theoretical Girls,
Joe Smooth,
U.S. Maple,
cv313,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Sad Lovers and Giants, Sad Lovers and Giants, Sad Lovers and Giants, Sad Lovers and Giants.
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.