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 Uzbekistan and from Lyon.
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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Newcleus to the punk 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 Electric Prunes. All the underground hits.
All Jerry Gold Smith tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sixth Finger record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a a-ha record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Moody Blues,
a-ha,
Silicon Teens,
Connie Case,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Modern Lovers,
The Standells,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Marshall Jefferson,
Public Enemy,
Deepchord,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Mr. Review,
Ice-T,
Swans,
Tom Boy,
Essential Logic,
Grauzone,
X-Ray Spex,
Juan Atkins,
Heaven 17,
Popol Vuh,
The Mummies,
Lucky Dragons,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
DNA,
Scrapy,
The Mojo Men,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Martian,
Suicide,
Tubeway Army,
Marc Almond,
The Beau Brummels,
The Selecter,
Vladislav Delay,
The Red Krayola,
Los Fastidios,
Scott Walker,
The Knickerbockers,
DJ Sneak,
Bush Tetras,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Ken Boothe,
Pierre Henry,
Mo-Dettes,
Smog,
Funkadelic,
New Age Steppers,
Man Eating Sloth,
EPMD,
Dave Gahan,
Eyeless In Gaza,
8 Eyed Spy,
Don Cherry,
Agitation Free,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Roger Hodgson,
Chrome,
JFA,
Angry Samoans,
Gastr Del Sol, Gastr Del Sol, Gastr Del Sol, Gastr Del Sol.
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.