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 Cyprus and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Josef K to the rap 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 Arcadia. All the underground hits.
All Gong tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Flamin' Groovies record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 snare and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lindisfarne record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Moss Icon,
The Flesh Eaters,
David Axelrod,
Neu!,
Eric B and Rakim,
Porter Ricks,
The Smoke,
Accadde A,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Electric Prunes,
Monolake,
Mandrill,
The Beau Brummels,
John Foxx,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Excepter,
Hoover,
John Coltrane,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
the Association,
Half Japanese,
Anthony Braxton,
Gastr Del Sol,
Sarah Menescal,
Dawn Penn,
Tears for Fears,
Avey Tare,
the Sonics,
Harry Pussy,
Cluster,
The Skatalites,
Connie Case,
One Last Wish,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Swell Maps,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Wally Richardson,
The Golliwogs,
X-102,
The Leaves,
Masters at Work,
This Heat,
Q and Not U,
Howard Jones,
KRS-One,
Fad Gadget,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Unwound,
the Swans,
Aaron Thompson,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Scientists,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
R.M.O.,
Rotary Connection,
Black Flag,
Arthur Verocai,
The Blues Magoos,
The Sound,
Ice-T,
Malaria!, Malaria!, Malaria!, Malaria!.
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.