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 Hungary and from Madrid.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the snare 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 Mark Hollis to the jazz 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 Grauzone. All the underground hits.
All Marmalade tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 spring reverb and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Flag record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer 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?
Delon & Dalcan,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Eve St. Jones,
Albert Ayler,
Adolescents,
John Cale,
Vladislav Delay,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Kenny Larkin,
Tropical Tobacco,
Man Parrish,
Rod Modell,
Warsaw,
Robert Görl,
Khruangbin,
Gang of Four,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Depeche Mode,
OOIOO,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Dark Day,
Archie Shepp,
New Age Steppers,
H. Thieme,
The Misunderstood,
Harpers Bizarre,
Peter & Gordon,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Velvet Underground,
The Stooges,
Gerry Rafferty,
Second Layer,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Reuben Wilson,
Boredoms,
Bluetip,
kango's stein massive,
The Fall,
The Smoke,
Eric Dolphy,
Lee Hazlewood,
Scan 7,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Lindisfarne,
The American Breed,
Danielle Patucci,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Cramps,
The Pop Group,
Monolake,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Fela Kuti,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Skatalites,
Agitation Free,
Wally Richardson,
Nils Olav,
Harmonia,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Arab on Radar,
Y Pants,
David Axelrod,
Mary Jane Girls,
Niagra,
Electric Light Orchestra, Electric Light Orchestra, Electric Light Orchestra, Electric Light Orchestra.
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.