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 Sweden and from Shanghai.
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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Little Man to the rock 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 Pussy Galore. All the underground hits.
All Public Enemy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Womack 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bill Near 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?
Gichy Dan,
Absolute Body Control,
Flipper,
Deadbeat,
The Black Dice,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Oneida,
Tears for Fears,
The Red Krayola,
The Leaves,
Don Cherry,
48th St. Collective,
Soft Machine,
Wire,
Duran Duran,
The Skatalites,
John Holt,
Radiohead,
The Saints,
Wasted Youth,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Excepter,
Davy DMX,
The Raincoats,
Public Enemy,
Roy Ayers,
The Buckinghams,
John Lydon,
D'Angelo,
JFA,
Saccharine Trust,
The Flesh Eaters,
June Days,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Bronski Beat,
Tim Buckley,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Pulsallama,
Porter Ricks,
Rufus Thomas,
Howard Jones,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
The Mojo Men,
the Human League,
Scientists,
Jeff Lynne,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Heaven 17,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Stockholm Monsters,
Mars,
Gang Starr,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Pole,
Pierre Henry,
Unrelated Segments,
Sparks,
Tommy Roe,
Das Ding, Das Ding, Das Ding, Das Ding.
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.