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 Namibia and from Taipei.
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 1960 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 June Days to the techno kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Bar-Kays. All the underground hits.
All Ajijia Myrayebe tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every David Axelrod 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 spring reverb and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Index record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Young Rascals,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Sonics,
H. Thieme,
Cecil Taylor,
The Alarm Clocks,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Cowsills,
The Zeros,
Gerry Rafferty,
Tubeway Army,
Wasted Youth,
Nirvana,
Hoover,
Todd Rundgren,
David McCallum,
Whodini,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Grass Roots,
Slick Rick,
Tommy Roe,
Pharoah Sanders,
Aswad,
Television,
DNA,
Howard Jones,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
These Immortal Souls,
Stockholm Monsters,
Dawn Penn,
Ituana,
Siglo XX,
Y Pants,
Deepchord,
The Modern Lovers,
Ultimate Spinach,
Lebanon Hanover,
Eve St. Jones,
The Shadows of Knight,
Crooked Eye,
Silicon Teens,
Bobby Womack,
The Blues Magoos,
Los Fastidios,
Arthur Verocai,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Victims,
The Star Department,
8 Eyed Spy,
Spandau Ballet,
The Leaves,
Big Daddy Kane,
Minnie Riperton,
Lou Reed,
Royal Trux,
Pagans,
Tim Buckley,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Deakin, Deakin, Deakin, Deakin.
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.