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 Georgia and from Cairo.
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 1960 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Barry Ungar 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 Gary Puckett & The Union Gap. All the underground hits.
All Surgeon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Talk Talk record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 a chamberlin and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Foxx record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Durutti Column,
Yellowson,
Barry Ungar,
Severed Heads,
Patti Smith,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Nas,
Buzzcocks,
Crime,
Steve Hackett,
New York Dolls,
Michelle Simonal,
The Fall,
Boredoms,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Invisible,
Ronnie Foster,
Toni Rubio,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Eve St. Jones,
Pylon,
The Saints,
Stockholm Monsters,
Ken Boothe,
Shuggie Otis,
Bobby Womack,
Funky Four + One,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Crispian St. Peters,
Babytalk,
Yazoo,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Five Americans,
The Kinks,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
the Slits,
Lalo Schifrin,
Jimmy McGriff,
Youth Brigade,
Y Pants,
John Lydon,
The Music Machine,
Whodini,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Martian,
The Moody Blues,
cv313,
Pantaleimon,
The Gap Band,
L. Decosne,
The Fuzztones,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Glambeats Corp.,
Piero Umiliani,
Fad Gadget,
Flash Fearless,
Kas Product,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Siglo XX,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Tubeway Army, Tubeway Army, Tubeway Army, Tubeway Army.
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.