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 Philadelphia.
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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Hong Kong.
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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the rhodes 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 The Smoke to the electroclash 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 The Count Five. All the underground hits.
All Al Stewart tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Silicon Teens record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sister Nancy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wally Richardson,
Sparks,
Porter Ricks,
Rites of Spring,
Bronski Beat,
Big Daddy Kane,
Rotary Connection,
Howard Jones,
T. Rex,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Cramps,
Sonny Sharrock,
Freddie Wadling,
Hasil Adkins,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Isaac Hayes,
John Holt,
Basic Channel,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Pantytec,
Funkadelic,
Sonic Youth,
Joe Smooth,
June Days,
Television Personalities,
Ronan,
Gang of Four,
Rapeman,
Groovy Waters,
Fugazi,
John Foxx,
The Buckinghams,
Scientists,
Parry Music,
Symarip,
Roxette,
Babytalk,
Marc Almond,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Urselle,
The Mummies,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Kerrie Biddell,
Aswad,
Sam Rivers,
Derrick Morgan,
The American Breed,
Junior Murvin,
Khruangbin,
Tom Boy,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
PIL,
Byron Stingily,
CMW,
Soft Cell,
The Litter,
Moebius,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
10cc,
Spoonie Gee,
Adolescents, Adolescents, Adolescents, Adolescents.
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.