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 Bhutan and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Altered Images to the jazz 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 Girls At Our Best!. All the underground hits.
All MDC tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Electric Light Orchestra 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cheater Slicks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Glambeats Corp.,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Index,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Suburban Knight,
Sandy B,
Scratch Acid,
Shoche,
Faust,
Gang Green,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Charles Mingus,
The Electric Prunes,
The Red Krayola,
Kayak,
Bootsy Collins,
Duran Duran,
Kool Moe Dee,
Cheater Slicks,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Monks,
Theoretical Girls,
Cybotron,
Soft Cell,
Tres Demented,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Johnny Clarke,
Massinfluence,
Grey Daturas,
KRS-One,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Terrestrial Tones,
Colin Newman,
Jacques Brel,
T.S.O.L.,
Morten Harket,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Jeff Lynne,
Public Image Ltd.,
Roger Hodgson,
Patti Smith,
the Association,
the Normal,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
B.T. Express,
Zapp,
Altered Images,
Angry Samoans,
Nils Olav,
Severed Heads,
the Germs,
The Gap Band,
Throbbing Gristle,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Grass Roots,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Arab on Radar,
The Fugs,
The Dirtbombs,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Chris & Cosey,
Excepter,
The Cure, The Cure, The Cure, The Cure.
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.