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 Azerbaijan and from Sao Paulo.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Philadelphia.
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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the marimba 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 Donald Byrd to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Crash Course in Science. All the underground hits.
All Danielle Patucci tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bang On A Can 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Das Ding record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Man Parrish,
Cluster,
Inner City,
the Sonics,
Connie Case,
Aural Exciters,
The Pretty Things,
The Zeros,
The Gories,
Marmalade,
The Leaves,
The Young Rascals,
Glambeats Corp.,
Eli Mardock,
Letta Mbulu,
Marshall Jefferson,
Warsaw,
The Golliwogs,
Sun Ra,
Mission of Burma,
Peter & Gordon,
Quando Quango,
Steve Hackett,
T. Rex,
Soft Cell,
Piero Umiliani,
Kas Product,
Suburban Knight,
Brand Nubian,
The Electric Prunes,
Bauhaus,
Accadde A,
The Names,
The United States of America,
The Music Machine,
Black Sheep,
Rhythm & Sound,
Minnie Riperton,
Zero Boys,
The Fugs,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Jandek,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Shadows of Knight,
Unwound,
Cymande,
The Walker Brothers,
Drexciya,
The Seeds,
Donald Byrd,
Shoche,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Andrew Hill,
Thompson Twins,
The Durutti Column,
a-ha,
Dual Sessions,
Skriet,
Stetsasonic,
Fela Kuti,
Robert Wyatt,
ABC,
Yazoo, Yazoo, Yazoo, Yazoo.
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.