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 Nepal and from Paris.
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 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Lungfish to the jazz kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Metal Thangz. All the underground hits.
All Talk Talk tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Flipper 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Moody Blues record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cheater Slicks,
Radio Birdman,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Main Source,
Marcia Griffiths,
Byron Stingily,
Reuben Wilson,
Oneida,
June of 44,
Groovy Waters,
Scan 7,
Ken Boothe,
Joe Finger,
Motorama,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Animal Collective,
Peter and Kerry,
The Divine Comedy,
Ultra Naté,
Joensuu 1685,
Susan Cadogan,
T. Rex,
Nirvana,
The Walker Brothers,
Newcleus,
Bluetip,
John Holt,
Organ,
The Moleskins,
The Saints,
Reagan Youth,
Hasil Adkins,
R.M.O.,
Urselle,
Cecil Taylor,
Circle Jerks,
Joy Division,
The Names,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Gap Band,
Dead Boys,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Eve St. Jones,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Buzzcocks,
Bobby Byrd,
The Monks,
Ice-T,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Mission of Burma,
Black Sheep,
a-ha,
Aswad,
The Vogues,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
In Retrospect,
Hardrive,
Lee Hazlewood,
Guru Guru,
John Cale,
Maleditus Sound,
Youth Brigade,
B.T. Express,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Music Machine, The Music Machine, The Music Machine, The Music Machine.
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.