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 Tajikistan and from Toronto.
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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
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 Cymande to the grime 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 Icehouse. All the underground hits.
All Tommy Roe tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Jesus and Mary Chain 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Dual Sessions,
Black Pus,
Nation of Ulysses,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Jacob Miller,
Scion,
Lower 48,
Cluster,
Barrington Levy,
Grey Daturas,
Rites of Spring,
Funkadelic,
Icehouse,
Rosa Yemen,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Boredoms,
Shuggie Otis,
Kenny Larkin,
One Last Wish,
Moebius,
Dead Boys,
Stiv Bators,
John Cale,
Adolescents,
Chris Corsano,
Newcleus,
The Count Five,
Nick Fraelich,
Pole,
Gil Scott Heron,
Rakim,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Sonny Sharrock,
Roxette,
Marine Girls,
The Red Krayola,
Harpers Bizarre,
Saccharine Trust,
The Leaves,
James White and The Blacks,
Mo-Dettes,
Jeff Mills,
Morten Harket,
Niagra,
Roxy Music,
Joensuu 1685,
The Dirtbombs,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Country Teasers,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Yellowson,
Man Parrish,
Ultravox,
Outsiders,
Inner City,
Aural Exciters,
Ossler,
Panda Bear,
Sam Rivers, Sam Rivers, Sam Rivers, Sam Rivers.
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.