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 Netherlands and from Sao Paulo.
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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Suicide to the rap kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Grass Roots. All the underground hits.
All Gang Green tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Red Lorry Yellow Lorry record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Letta Mbulu 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?
Arab on Radar,
Patti Smith,
Joey Negro,
The Smiths,
A Flock of Seagulls,
the Soft Cell,
Fad Gadget,
The Cowsills,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Half Japanese,
Magazine,
Tres Demented,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Lakeside,
Gregory Isaacs,
Danielle Patucci,
The Buckinghams,
Michelle Simonal,
Supertramp,
The Velvet Underground,
H. Thieme,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Maurizio,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Marcia Griffiths,
Pet Shop Boys,
Drexciya,
Boz Scaggs,
Fat Boys,
David McCallum,
Flash Fearless,
Kenny Larkin,
Stiv Bators,
the Human League,
Minny Pops,
Arcadia,
Stockholm Monsters,
Kurtis Blow,
Robert Görl,
Desert Stars,
The Barracudas,
Rites of Spring,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Sparks,
Eddi Front,
Sugar Minott,
OOIOO,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
A Certain Ratio,
Anakelly,
Khruangbin,
Jerry's Kids,
Bobby Byrd,
Public Image Ltd.,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Bang On A Can,
Howard Jones,
Liliput, Liliput, Liliput, Liliput.
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.