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 Cyprus and from Glasgow.
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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 mellotron 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 Pole to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Lower 48. All the underground hits.
All Louis and Bebe Barron tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Chris & Cosey record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Searchers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mission of Burma,
Don Cherry,
David McCallum,
Byron Stingily,
Funkadelic,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Pulsallama,
Lungfish,
The Smoke,
Cal Tjader,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Gong,
T.S.O.L.,
OOIOO,
The Remains,
Rufus Thomas,
The Slits,
The Divine Comedy,
The Dead C,
Lakeside,
Wally Richardson,
Flamin' Groovies,
Max Romeo,
Pere Ubu,
The Mojo Men,
Carl Craig,
David Bowie,
Girls At Our Best!,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Saccharine Trust,
Adolescents,
Traffic Nightmare,
Sexual Harrassment,
Quando Quango,
Sparks,
Howard Jones,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Pierre Henry,
the Human League,
The Offenders,
Joe Finger,
Silicon Teens,
Maleditus Sound,
The Blues Magoos,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Marvin Gaye,
The Martian,
Laurel Aitken,
Neu!,
the Sonics,
The Fuzztones,
Minor Threat,
Jerry Gold Smith,
ABC,
Bush Tetras,
LL Cool J,
Eve St. Jones,
Jandek,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Archie Shepp,
Ronan,
Bob Dylan,
Brass Construction, Brass Construction, Brass Construction, Brass Construction.
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.