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 Slovenia and from Portland.
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 1965 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 mellotron 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 The Black Dice to the dance 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 Yellowson. All the underground hits.
All Stiv Bators tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Searchers 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cybotron record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Procol Harum,
UT,
the Fania All-Stars,
Steve Hackett,
Aloha Tigers,
Peter and Kerry,
Livin' Joy,
Leonard Cohen,
Ten City,
Trumans Water,
Ituana,
David Axelrod,
Sugar Minott,
The Slackers,
Cecil Taylor,
Magazine,
Ronnie Foster,
Maleditus Sound,
Gabor Szabo,
Joe Smooth,
Minnie Riperton,
Terrestrial Tones,
James White and The Blacks,
The Durutti Column,
T. Rex,
The Beau Brummels,
The Star Department,
Stetsasonic,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Youth Brigade,
Iggy Pop,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Pussy Galore,
The Angels of Light,
Los Fastidios,
Porter Ricks,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Happenings,
Circle Jerks,
Pantytec,
The Fuzztones,
Flamin' Groovies,
Bronski Beat,
Skarface,
Howard Jones,
Mars,
Kurtis Blow,
Radiohead,
Roger Hodgson,
Susan Cadogan,
Mr. Review,
Silicon Teens,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Fortunes,
Lalo Schifrin,
D'Angelo,
Agent Orange,
Dead Boys,
Bluetip,
Roxy Music,
Michelle Simonal,
The United States of America, The United States of America, The United States of America, The United States of America.
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.