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 Spain and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Slick Rick 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 The Leaves. All the underground hits.
All Loose Ends tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Angels of Light record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 clarinet and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Average White Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marc Almond,
Big Daddy Kane,
Sugar Minott,
The Tremeloes,
Pantytec,
The Flesh Eaters,
Glambeats Corp.,
Traffic Nightmare,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Suicide,
Aloha Tigers,
Sun Ra,
Moss Icon,
Danielle Patucci,
Black Pus,
AZ,
Deakin,
John Lydon,
Reagan Youth,
Audionom,
The American Breed,
Delta 5,
Y Pants,
Judy Mowatt,
EPMD,
Janne Schatter,
Altered Images,
Sällskapet,
Ornette Coleman,
Brick,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Busters,
Harpers Bizarre,
Flash Fearless,
The Divine Comedy,
Oneida,
The Gories,
Young Marble Giants,
Bluetip,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Faraquet,
Gerry Rafferty,
Scratch Acid,
Shuggie Otis,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Television,
Circle Jerks,
Crime,
Gregory Isaacs,
Porter Ricks,
The Five Americans,
Visage,
The Monks,
Neu!,
The Fugs,
Mary Jane Girls,
Gabor Szabo,
Arcadia,
The Cowsills, The Cowsills, The Cowsills, The Cowsills.
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.