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 Sierra Leone and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1969 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Tim Buckley to the rock 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 Brick. All the underground hits.
All Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Davy DMX 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lalann record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Stockholm Monsters,
Yaz,
Severed Heads,
Aloha Tigers,
Kayak,
Lakeside,
Harry Pussy,
Crash Course in Science,
Thee Headcoats,
Q and Not U,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Peter and Kerry,
Swell Maps,
Liliput,
Sixth Finger,
Bobby Byrd,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Remains,
Howard Jones,
Tomorrow,
Terrestrial Tones,
John Holt,
the Soft Cell,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Monochrome Set,
Pussy Galore,
Eli Mardock,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Cramps,
EPMD,
Camouflage,
Josef K,
Gang of Four,
Peter & Gordon,
CMW,
Marshall Jefferson,
Kenny Larkin,
Cymande,
In Retrospect,
Bill Wells,
Sex Pistols,
Yusef Lateef,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Matthew Bourne,
The Beau Brummels,
Lou Reed,
Piero Umiliani,
Monks,
Judy Mowatt,
Cecil Taylor,
Scratch Acid,
Symarip,
AZ,
Basic Channel,
KRS-One,
Joensuu 1685,
Metal Thangz,
Colin Newman,
The Gap Band,
The Young Rascals,
Pierre Henry,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Sam Rivers, Sam Rivers, Sam Rivers, Sam Rivers.
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.