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 China and from Philadelphia.
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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 harpsichord 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 Mark Hollis to the punk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Khruangbin. All the underground hits.
All The Fugs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bob Dylan record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Goldenarms record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Infiniti,
Pharoah Sanders,
T.S.O.L.,
X-101,
Livin' Joy,
the Human League,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Colin Newman,
The Smiths,
Guru Guru,
Spandau Ballet,
Boredoms,
Tubeway Army,
Alison Limerick,
Stockholm Monsters,
The J.B.'s,
Parry Music,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The American Breed,
Gerry Rafferty,
Q65,
Harry Pussy,
CMW,
This Heat,
Scott Walker,
Jerry Gold Smith,
DJ Style,
Henry Cow,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Gil Scott Heron,
Television,
Japan,
The Pop Group,
Harpers Bizarre,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Fortunes,
Drexciya,
The Names,
Fad Gadget,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Sam Rivers,
Au Pairs,
Slave,
Rapeman,
Saccharine Trust,
Brothers Johnson,
Davy DMX,
The Kinks,
Eyeless In Gaza,
David Bowie,
Slick Rick,
The Alarm Clocks,
Jerry's Kids,
These Immortal Souls,
The Dave Clark Five,
Camberwell Now,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Prince Buster,
New Age Steppers,
Tears for Fears, Tears for Fears, Tears for Fears, Tears for Fears.
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.