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 Pakistan and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 clarinet 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 The Residents to the rock 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 Star Department. All the underground hits.
All Gong tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Evens record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s 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 Donald Byrd record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fat Boys,
Altered Images,
Pere Ubu,
Angry Samoans,
X-102,
Yazoo,
Lindisfarne,
The Dirtbombs,
Gil Scott Heron,
Swell Maps,
Youth Brigade,
Khruangbin,
Crooked Eye,
UT,
Man Eating Sloth,
kango's stein massive,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Eli Mardock,
The Beau Brummels,
Bad Manners,
DJ Sneak,
The Residents,
Grey Daturas,
Kool Moe Dee,
Easy Going,
Minnie Riperton,
Deepchord,
Bizarre Inc.,
Ultimate Spinach,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Scientists,
Pulsallama,
Deakin,
Kayak,
Mantronix,
Essential Logic,
Laurel Aitken,
DNA,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Scratch Acid,
Michelle Simonal,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Moby Grape,
Barrington Levy,
Simply Red,
New Age Steppers,
10cc,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
the Bar-Kays,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Carl Craig,
Jacob Miller,
Ten City,
Young Marble Giants,
Cecil Taylor,
The Selecter,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
New York Dolls,
Pylon,
Black Sheep,
Bill Near,
Barbara Tucker,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Malaria!,
Wire, Wire, Wire, Wire.
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.