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 El Salvador and from Taipei.
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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Connie Case to the dance 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 Electric Light Orchestra. All the underground hits.
All Sly & The Family Stone tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every DJ Style record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 an oboe and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Carl Craig record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Erasure,
Junior Murvin,
Barrington Levy,
Gang of Four,
James White and The Blacks,
Rosa Yemen,
Bobby Byrd,
Zapp,
Sun Ra,
Trumans Water,
T.S.O.L.,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Hot Snakes,
Skaos,
Mission of Burma,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Scrapy,
Circle Jerks,
The Mummies,
The Index,
Jacques Brel,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Outsiders,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Bush Tetras,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Japan,
EPMD,
Bronski Beat,
Todd Terry,
Idris Muhammad,
Lou Reed,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Freddie Wadling,
Deakin,
Bad Manners,
Masters at Work,
The Seeds,
The Techniques,
kango's stein massive,
Judy Mowatt,
Yazoo,
Banda Bassotti,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Kool Moe Dee,
David Bowie,
Hardrive,
Mantronix,
Crime,
Alphaville,
John Cale,
Josef K,
The Standells,
Oblivians,
Jacob Miller,
The Leaves,
Boogie Down Productions,
Grauzone,
Liliput,
Excepter,
Organ, Organ, Organ, Organ.
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.