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 Vanuatu and from Glasgow.
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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Rufus Thomas to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Bronski Beat. All the underground hits.
All EPMD tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mr. Review record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Angels of Light record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Man Eating Sloth,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Real Kids,
Zero Boys,
Tomorrow,
The Doors,
Iggy Pop,
Funky Four + One,
Quadrant,
Curtis Mayfield,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Boz Scaggs,
Nils Olav,
Al Stewart,
Franke,
Jacques Brel,
Faraquet,
Black Pus,
The Dead C,
Basic Channel,
Rekid,
These Immortal Souls,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Dorothy Ashby,
Harmonia,
Dave Gahan,
Buzzcocks,
Harry Pussy,
Das Ding,
Black Moon,
Blossom Toes,
Con Funk Shun,
EPMD,
Quando Quango,
Gang Starr,
Fatback Band,
H. Thieme,
Johnny Clarke,
Hoover,
Agent Orange,
Black Sheep,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Glenn Branca,
Lyres,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Slackers,
Byron Stingily,
Jeff Mills,
Alton Ellis,
Agitation Free,
The Dave Clark Five,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Gichy Dan,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Star Department,
Sixth Finger,
Ken Boothe,
Siglo XX,
Flipper,
Soulsonic Force,
Monolake,
The Pretty Things,
the Slits,
Bad Manners, Bad Manners, Bad Manners, Bad Manners.
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.