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 Dominican Republic and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 The Five Americans to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Panda Bear. All the underground hits.
All David McCallum tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nils Olav 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Peanut Butter Conspiracy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Khruangbin,
Ten City,
Leonard Cohen,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Last Poets,
The Velvet Underground,
Buzzcocks,
Bob Dylan,
Man Eating Sloth,
The J.B.'s,
Joensuu 1685,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Names,
Parry Music,
Rapeman,
Quadrant,
The Human League,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Severed Heads,
The Cure,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Mojo Men,
The Blues Magoos,
Scientists,
the Bar-Kays,
The Martian,
Kevin Saunderson,
8 Eyed Spy,
Scratch Acid,
Juan Atkins,
Kayak,
John Holt,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
the Normal,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Pantytec,
Q and Not U,
Moss Icon,
Gastr Del Sol,
Flipper,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Gap Band,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Desert Stars,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Girls At Our Best!,
Amon Düül,
Magma,
Nation of Ulysses,
Black Flag,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Boredoms,
Fad Gadget,
Ash Ra Tempel,
John Cale,
The Blackbyrds,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Erykah Badu,
Alton Ellis,
Lebanon Hanover,
Bad Manners,
Accadde A,
Robert Hood, Robert Hood, Robert Hood, Robert Hood.
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.