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 Papua New Guinea and from Philadelphia.
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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Saccharine Trust to the disco 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 Traffic Nightmare. All the underground hits.
All Selector Dub Narcotic tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every R.M.O. record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Royal Family And The Poor record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Excepter,
June of 44,
Thompson Twins,
Terry Callier,
Eli Mardock,
Ultimate Spinach,
Donny Hathaway,
Nico,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Supertramp,
Donald Byrd,
the Human League,
Fluxion,
48th St. Collective,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Red Krayola,
The Fuzztones,
David McCallum,
Shoche,
Sonic Youth,
K-Klass,
Desert Stars,
The Blackbyrds,
Ultra Naté,
Albert Ayler,
Vainqueur,
Eden Ahbez,
Ponytail,
Traffic Nightmare,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Bob Dylan,
Arcadia,
Severed Heads,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Zeros,
Hoover,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Johnny Clarke,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The New Christs,
Gregory Isaacs,
Deakin,
Cecil Taylor,
Mad Mike,
FM Einheit,
Buzzcocks,
The Misunderstood,
The Stooges,
Loose Ends,
D'Angelo,
New York Dolls,
Gang Gang Dance,
Marmalade,
The Velvet Underground,
The Five Americans,
Bad Manners,
Bang On A Can,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Soul Sonic Force,
Kevin Saunderson,
Trumans Water,
Guru Guru, Guru Guru, Guru Guru, Guru Guru.
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.