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 Zambia and from Halifax.
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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Pierre Henry to the rock 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 Gregory Isaacs. All the underground hits.
All John Foxx tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every John Cale record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Masters at Work record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Theoretical Girls,
Crooked Eye,
Pylon,
Gabor Szabo,
The Raincoats,
Cluster,
Hashim,
Blancmange,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Mark Hollis,
Alice Coltrane,
the Human League,
Flamin' Groovies,
Janne Schatter,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Qualms,
The Star Department,
Yellowson,
L. Decosne,
The Searchers,
the Bar-Kays,
Unwound,
Sonic Youth,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Moody Blues,
The Toasters,
The Count Five,
Arthur Verocai,
Maleditus Sound,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Pharoah Sanders,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
X-101,
Franke,
8 Eyed Spy,
Minor Threat,
Gang Starr,
The Smoke,
T. Rex,
Icehouse,
Mandrill,
Trumans Water,
Oblivians,
Avey Tare,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Thee Headcoats,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Duran Duran,
Josef K,
Rod Modell,
Kurtis Blow,
The Beau Brummels,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Ohio Players,
Nils Olav,
Mary Jane Girls,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Five Americans,
The Associates,
Lebanon Hanover, Lebanon Hanover, Lebanon Hanover, Lebanon Hanover.
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.