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 New Zealand 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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 chamberlin 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 Y Pants to the techno 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 the Fania All-Stars. All the underground hits.
All Mandrill tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Massinfluence 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Cale record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Radiopuhelimet,
Lalo Schifrin,
Arab on Radar,
The Slackers,
Motorama,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Sound Behaviour,
the Germs,
Mission of Burma,
Rosa Yemen,
Brothers Johnson,
The Young Rascals,
The Invisible,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Deepchord,
Von Mondo,
Amon Düül,
Lakeside,
June Days,
Peter and Kerry,
Gong,
Tears for Fears,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Roger Hodgson,
The New Christs,
Maurizio,
Cheater Slicks,
Monks,
Bob Dylan,
The Durutti Column,
Gang Gang Dance,
Pussy Galore,
Cluster,
Bootsy Collins,
A Certain Ratio,
Brick,
Isaac Hayes,
the Association,
Pere Ubu,
Sexual Harrassment,
Cecil Taylor,
Boredoms,
The Move,
Juan Atkins,
Eden Ahbez,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Mummies,
Soft Machine,
L. Decosne,
Y Pants,
PIL,
Adolescents,
Soul II Soul,
Scott Walker,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Joe Smooth,
Gil Scott Heron,
Ludus,
Reagan Youth,
Mars,
The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang.
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.