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 Guinea-Bissau and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Pere Ubu to the punk 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 Pussy Galore. All the underground hits.
All the Sonics tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Aloha Tigers 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Graham Central Station record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
A Flock of Seagulls,
DJ Sneak,
Al Stewart,
Scion,
Sixth Finger,
Icehouse,
Funky Four + One,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
8 Eyed Spy,
Juan Atkins,
Popol Vuh,
The Cramps,
Public Image Ltd.,
Mr. Review,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Techniques,
The Monochrome Set,
LL Cool J,
Fatback Band,
Eric Dolphy,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Sight & Sound,
Neu!,
Ronan,
Mark Hollis,
Agitation Free,
Monolake,
cv313,
Eden Ahbez,
Subhumans,
The American Breed,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
the Germs,
Henry Cow,
Main Source,
Theoretical Girls,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Offenders,
Boz Scaggs,
Pharoah Sanders,
Rhythm & Sound,
Spandau Ballet,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Metal Thangz,
The Slackers,
The Dead C,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Kayak,
H. Thieme,
DJ Style,
Gang Green,
The Angels of Light,
Rotary Connection,
Yellowson,
Banda Bassotti,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Liliput,
Marshall Jefferson,
Chris & Cosey,
Mantronix,
Duran Duran,
Mars, Mars, Mars, Mars.
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.