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 Trinidad & Tobago and from Johannesburg.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the güiro 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 The Chocolate Watch Band to the grime 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 Mary Jane Girls. All the underground hits.
All Albert Ayler tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Icehouse 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Index record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Fall,
Ultimate Spinach,
Flipper,
Peter and Kerry,
Boredoms,
Heaven 17,
One Last Wish,
Slick Rick,
Chris Corsano,
Bobby Sherman,
Tim Buckley,
David McCallum,
Nation of Ulysses,
Marvin Gaye,
Fear,
Section 25,
Pantaleimon,
Godley & Creme,
The Human League,
Fugazi,
The Offenders,
Aaron Thompson,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The Detroit Cobras,
Sam Rivers,
Connie Case,
The Stooges,
Minor Threat,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Excepter,
Sonny Sharrock,
Au Pairs,
Fad Gadget,
Simply Red,
Eric B and Rakim,
Funky Four + One,
A Certain Ratio,
Aloha Tigers,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Pylon,
Gastr Del Sol,
Thee Headcoats,
The Five Americans,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Evens,
Maurizio,
Piero Umiliani,
FM Einheit,
Qualms,
Ohio Players,
Jeru the Damaja,
Fifty Foot Hose,
China Crisis,
Jerry's Kids,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
X-101,
Amon Düül II,
The Young Rascals,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Faust,
Black Pus,
Dawn Penn,
Eddi Front,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The United States of America, The United States of America, The United States of America, The United States of America.
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.