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 Finland and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Glambeats Corp. to the crunk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Harry Pussy. All the underground hits.
All Easy Going tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every 8 Eyed Spy 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Erykah Badu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Electric Prunes,
Rotary Connection,
Howard Jones,
Kenny Larkin,
Gregory Isaacs,
Ultimate Spinach,
Babytalk,
Zero Boys,
Arab on Radar,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Seeds,
Talk Talk,
Duran Duran,
Dark Day,
Au Pairs,
Can,
Al Stewart,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Tomorrow,
Maleditus Sound,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Harmonia,
Saccharine Trust,
Gabor Szabo,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Nation of Ulysses,
Mr. Review,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Fugazi,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Robert Wyatt,
Minutemen,
Crispian St. Peters,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
cv313,
Letta Mbulu,
Blancmange,
Rapeman,
Traffic Nightmare,
Parry Music,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Kerrie Biddell,
Blossom Toes,
X-102,
Smog,
Johnny Clarke,
The Durutti Column,
Malaria!,
a-ha,
Lou Christie,
JFA,
Connie Case,
Hashim,
Rod Modell,
Dave Gahan,
Sex Pistols,
Robert Görl,
The Moody Blues,
The Barracudas,
Byron Stingily,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Bad Manners, Bad Manners, Bad Manners, Bad Manners.
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.