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 Seychelles and from Winnipeg.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 spring reverb 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 Darondo to the rock kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Sister Nancy. All the underground hits.
All Steve Hackett tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Terry Callier record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marc Almond record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rapeman,
DJ Sneak,
Donny Hathaway,
Gastr Del Sol,
Theoretical Girls,
Talk Talk,
Underground Resistance,
Sandy B,
Wolf Eyes,
Pharoah Sanders,
Colin Newman,
Niagra,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Ronnie Foster,
Fad Gadget,
June of 44,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Lebanon Hanover,
This Heat,
Robert Wyatt,
Sight & Sound,
Faust,
OOIOO,
Scan 7,
Ultravox,
Pussy Galore,
Brothers Johnson,
Parry Music,
Liliput,
Alton Ellis,
Mars,
R.M.O.,
Con Funk Shun,
Unrelated Segments,
Yaz,
Warsaw,
Zero Boys,
The Raincoats,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Suburban Knight,
cv313,
Scrapy,
Eve St. Jones,
The Blackbyrds,
Excepter,
The Fugs,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Crime,
David Bowie,
Los Fastidios,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Sun Ra,
Joyce Sims,
Q and Not U,
The Offenders,
The Stooges,
Thompson Twins,
Barrington Levy,
Andrew Hill,
The Walker Brothers,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Last Poets,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Qualms,
Ultra Naté, Ultra Naté, Ultra Naté, Ultra Naté.
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.