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 Sri Lanka and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Kool Moe Dee to the crunk 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 The Men They Couldn't Hang. All the underground hits.
All Bobby Byrd tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobbi Humphrey record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Human League record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
T.S.O.L.,
Kool Moe Dee,
Letta Mbulu,
Severed Heads,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Names,
The Invisible,
The Cramps,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Associates,
Mad Mike,
Gichy Dan,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Man Eating Sloth,
Prince Buster,
Radiohead,
This Heat,
Parry Music,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Blues Magoos,
Goldenarms,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Ken Boothe,
The Standells,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Moby Grape,
Erasure,
The Martian,
Hasil Adkins,
Gerry Rafferty,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Loose Ends,
The Monochrome Set,
Eli Mardock,
Delon & Dalcan,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Eric Copeland,
the Soft Cell,
The Mummies,
The Durutti Column,
Agitation Free,
Lightning Bolt,
Iggy Pop,
Michelle Simonal,
Adolescents,
The Last Poets,
The Slits,
The Blackbyrds,
Johnny Clarke,
New Order,
Cal Tjader,
The Leaves,
The Raincoats,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Altered Images,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Swell Maps,
The American Breed,
Minor Threat,
Jacob Miller,
Sarah Menescal, Sarah Menescal, Sarah Menescal, Sarah Menescal.
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.