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 Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 güiro 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 Teenage Jesus and the Jerks to the punk 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 Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band. All the underground hits.
All Strawberry Alarm Clock tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eli Mardock 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Maurizio record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jacques Brel,
Dark Day,
Con Funk Shun,
Vainqueur,
Depeche Mode,
Magma,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
John Cale,
AZ,
The Music Machine,
Trumans Water,
Television,
Fat Boys,
Brothers Johnson,
Dead Boys,
Scrapy,
Index,
Deepchord,
Rhythm & Sound,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Heaven 17,
Albert Ayler,
Grauzone,
The Mojo Men,
Alton Ellis,
The Happenings,
Massinfluence,
Maurizio,
Alice Coltrane,
Nik Kershaw,
Dave Gahan,
a-ha,
H. Thieme,
Gang of Four,
Ultimate Spinach,
Eve St. Jones,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Sam Rivers,
Roxette,
D'Angelo,
Black Moon,
The Dave Clark Five,
OOIOO,
The Gories,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Charles Mingus,
Brick,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Amon Düül II,
Whodini,
Sister Nancy,
Clear Light,
Eden Ahbez,
Scratch Acid,
Schoolly D,
Terry Callier,
Black Pus,
Hasil Adkins,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Glenn Branca,
Neil Young, Neil Young, Neil Young, Neil Young.
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.