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 Equatorial Guinea 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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Funkadelic to the punk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Minutemen. All the underground hits.
All Liliput tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Index record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 sitar and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nick Fraelich record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Altered Images,
Marc Almond,
X-102,
Ten City,
Little Man,
The Litter,
Royal Trux,
H. Thieme,
Laurel Aitken,
Marshall Jefferson,
Lungfish,
Rakim,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Dave Clark Five,
Barry Ungar,
Popol Vuh,
Mark Hollis,
Boz Scaggs,
The Barracudas,
Blossom Toes,
Donny Hathaway,
Warsaw,
Moss Icon,
Accadde A,
Trumans Water,
Gregory Isaacs,
Cal Tjader,
Essential Logic,
Nas,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Marmalade,
Throbbing Gristle,
Aaron Thompson,
The Misunderstood,
Barclay James Harvest,
David McCallum,
Slick Rick,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Modern Lovers,
The Cramps,
June of 44,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Doobie Brothers,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Smoke,
Gil Scott Heron,
PIL,
Crime,
Judy Mowatt,
cv313,
The Sonics,
Aloha Tigers,
Youth Brigade,
Bobby Womack,
The Names,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Black Dice,
The Beau Brummels, The Beau Brummels, The Beau Brummels, The Beau Brummels.
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.