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 Bolivia and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Arthur Verocai to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Sexual Harrassment. All the underground hits.
All Bill Wells tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Johnny Osbourne 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fugazi record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kool Moe Dee,
X-101,
Roger Hodgson,
Don Cherry,
Matthew Halsall,
Inner City,
Kerrie Biddell,
Quadrant,
UT,
Guru Guru,
The Index,
The Mummies,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
PIL,
Slave,
Josef K,
Bizarre Inc.,
Todd Rundgren,
Alice Coltrane,
Echospace,
David Bowie,
Franke,
June Days,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Soft Machine,
Stockholm Monsters,
Alton Ellis,
Eric Copeland,
Clear Light,
Hasil Adkins,
The Cure,
Godley & Creme,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Jerry's Kids,
Terrestrial Tones,
Terry Callier,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Alison Limerick,
Main Source,
Janne Schatter,
The Seeds,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Supertramp,
Arthur Verocai,
New Age Steppers,
Black Flag,
Howard Jones,
Eden Ahbez,
Kas Product,
The Alarm Clocks,
Pussy Galore,
the Bar-Kays,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
the Association,
Monolake,
Sight & Sound,
Radiopuhelimet,
Amon Düül,
Grey Daturas, Grey Daturas, Grey Daturas, Grey Daturas.
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.