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 Benin and from Houston.
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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Blues Magoos to the punk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Manfred Mann's Earth Band. All the underground hits.
All DNA tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Howard Jones 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 an organ and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Monks 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?
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Man Parrish,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Busters,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Velvet Underground,
Alice Coltrane,
Arcadia,
Second Layer,
Eve St. Jones,
Ituana,
Scratch Acid,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Young Rascals,
Neu!,
The Blues Magoos,
Minnie Riperton,
Mission of Burma,
Sister Nancy,
Donald Byrd,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Sound Behaviour,
Roxy Music,
Little Man,
Throbbing Gristle,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The New Christs,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Fall,
Make Up,
Audionom,
Bob Dylan,
Adolescents,
The Real Kids,
the Bar-Kays,
James White and The Blacks,
Max Romeo,
Ultravox,
Robert Hood,
Gerry Rafferty,
Black Flag,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Hot Snakes,
The Walker Brothers,
Negative Approach,
Leonard Cohen,
Skriet,
Rites of Spring,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Easy Going,
Basic Channel,
Desert Stars,
Soft Machine,
Archie Shepp,
A Certain Ratio,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Thee Headcoats,
Bobby Sherman,
John Cale, John Cale, John Cale, John Cale.
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.