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 Belgium and from Salvador.
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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Sexual Harrassment to the jazz 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 The Shadows of Knight. All the underground hits.
All The Saints tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Suicide record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wolf Eyes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Minor Threat,
The Buckinghams,
Maleditus Sound,
Lalann,
Black Flag,
Prince Buster,
Monolake,
Stetsasonic,
Frankie Knuckles,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
R.M.O.,
Joe Finger,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Loose Ends,
The Vogues,
The Saints,
China Crisis,
Bobby Byrd,
The Martian,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Henry Cow,
Ten City,
Cecil Taylor,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Alton Ellis,
Girls At Our Best!,
Subhumans,
Gerry Rafferty,
Can,
Rhythm & Sound,
Sällskapet,
Ralphi Rosario,
Kevin Saunderson,
Severed Heads,
Q65,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Black Moon,
The Five Americans,
Sonny Sharrock,
The American Breed,
The Blackbyrds,
The Moody Blues,
Second Layer,
Metal Thangz,
Television,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The Slits,
Soft Machine,
Leonard Cohen,
Derrick Morgan,
Bob Dylan,
Sarah Menescal,
Mark Hollis,
Theoretical Girls,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Angry Samoans,
World's Most,
Masters at Work,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Rekid,
X-Ray Spex,
Jawbox,
Jeff Lynne, Jeff Lynne, Jeff Lynne, Jeff Lynne.
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.