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 Turkmenistan and from Tokyo.
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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the marimba 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 Barclay James Harvest to the disco kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Rufus Thomas. All the underground hits.
All Cameo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ten City record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scion record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pussy Galore,
The Black Dice,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Leaves,
Scientists,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Marshall Jefferson,
Ohio Players,
Visage,
Hot Snakes,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Minor Threat,
Prince Buster,
Peter and Kerry,
Tropical Tobacco,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
John Holt,
Jeff Mills,
Mad Mike,
the Swans,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Pantaleimon,
Marine Girls,
Pulsallama,
Monolake,
The Trojans,
Skriet,
Andrew Hill,
Wire,
In Retrospect,
Pylon,
Leonard Cohen,
Moebius,
cv313,
Fear,
Tom Boy,
Massinfluence,
Rites of Spring,
Sex Pistols,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Ituana,
Deadbeat,
Laurel Aitken,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Nirvana,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Symarip,
Country Teasers,
Kas Product,
E-Dancer,
The Offenders,
Niagra,
Darondo,
Black Bananas,
Brothers Johnson,
Sonny Sharrock,
New York Dolls,
Little Man,
Alton Ellis,
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.