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 Guinea and from Tokyo.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Sonics to the disco kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Eddi Front. All the underground hits.
All Pharoah Sanders tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Severed Heads record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 an oboe and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sex Pistols record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
R.M.O.,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Victims,
Agent Orange,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Isaac Hayes,
Sister Nancy,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Grey Daturas,
The Cramps,
Whodini,
Con Funk Shun,
Harmonia,
Cameo,
Radio Birdman,
Derrick Morgan,
Fatback Band,
Basic Channel,
The Pop Group,
Barclay James Harvest,
Technova,
Gong,
The Gories,
Joe Finger,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Bobby Byrd,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Neu!,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Bush Tetras,
Bauhaus,
Joey Negro,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
The Mojo Men,
K-Klass,
Accadde A,
Bronski Beat,
Easy Going,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Moody Blues,
Von Mondo,
The Shadows of Knight,
Nick Fraelich,
Ultravox,
The Durutti Column,
A Certain Ratio,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Associates,
Negative Approach,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
AZ,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Don Cherry,
Mission of Burma,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Stereo Dub,
Ornette Coleman,
Schoolly D,
The Grass Roots,
The Gladiators,
The Sisters of Mercy,
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.