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 Burkina and from Lyon.
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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the theremin 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 The Moody Blues to the disco kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Robert Görl. All the underground hits.
All Monks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Normal record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
T. Rex,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Throbbing Gristle,
Roger Hodgson,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Neon Judgement,
Fatback Band,
Johnny Clarke,
Deepchord,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Monks,
Lalann,
kango's stein massive,
B.T. Express,
Easy Going,
Bobby Womack,
Kool Moe Dee,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Metal Thangz,
Harmonia,
Bootsy Collins,
Icehouse,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Skatalites,
Aaron Thompson,
Grey Daturas,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Victims,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Red Krayola,
China Crisis,
The Alarm Clocks,
KRS-One,
Crispian St. Peters,
Anakelly,
JFA,
Soft Cell,
Blancmange,
L. Decosne,
Mission of Burma,
Robert Wyatt,
Absolute Body Control,
Man Eating Sloth,
Blossom Toes,
Swell Maps,
Sixth Finger,
the Human League,
Oneida,
Boredoms,
Terrestrial Tones,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Blues Magoos,
Danielle Patucci,
New Age Steppers,
The Velvet Underground,
Excepter,
Loose Ends,
Saccharine Trust,
Quando Quango, Quando Quango, Quando Quango, Quando Quango.
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.