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 Armenia and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 synthesizer 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 B.T. Express to the grunge 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 Qualms. All the underground hits.
All Echo & the Bunnymen tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Visage record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Chocolate Watch Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lyres,
The Moody Blues,
Junior Murvin,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Nils Olav,
The American Breed,
Sarah Menescal,
Brothers Johnson,
Surgeon,
Sparks,
L. Decosne,
Anakelly,
EPMD,
Eric B and Rakim,
New York Dolls,
Eve St. Jones,
The Searchers,
Blake Baxter,
Funky Four + One,
Simply Red,
Albert Ayler,
R.M.O.,
Blossom Toes,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Q and Not U,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Flash Fearless,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Los Fastidios,
K-Klass,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Blues Magoos,
Fad Gadget,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Steve Hackett,
Pussy Galore,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Marmalade,
Iggy Pop,
Marcia Griffiths,
Nik Kershaw,
Tres Demented,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
U.S. Maple,
Basic Channel,
The Alarm Clocks,
Niagra,
The Knickerbockers,
Circle Jerks,
Nick Fraelich,
The Shadows of Knight,
Deadbeat,
Roxy Music,
The New Christs,
the Slits,
Severed Heads,
Bang On A Can,
Cal Tjader,
The Invisible,
OOIOO,
The Smiths, The Smiths, The Smiths, The Smiths.
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.