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 Belgium and from Milan.
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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 marimba 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 The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band to the funk 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 Reagan Youth. All the underground hits.
All Ituana tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Infiniti record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tommy Roe record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Sheep,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Remains,
Vladislav Delay,
Ultravox,
Pussy Galore,
Scientists,
Visage,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Tommy Roe,
The Zeros,
Anthony Braxton,
Jacques Brel,
The Toasters,
Reuben Wilson,
Simply Red,
Altered Images,
Sandy B,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Buckinghams,
D'Angelo,
The Stooges,
Silicon Teens,
Icehouse,
Ossler,
A Certain Ratio,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Intrusion,
Glambeats Corp.,
the Soft Cell,
Malaria!,
The Selecter,
Max Romeo,
Jawbox,
Terry Callier,
The Cowsills,
Adolescents,
Lalann,
Anakelly,
The Mojo Men,
Magma,
Tom Boy,
Talk Talk,
Sällskapet,
Y Pants,
The Neon Judgement,
Throbbing Gristle,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Absolute Body Control,
Flamin' Groovies,
Aswad,
Lungfish,
David Bowie,
Mr. Review,
Andrew Hill,
U.S. Maple,
The Trojans,
Funkadelic,
The Gladiators,
Gil Scott Heron,
Fugazi,
Minny Pops,
Bang On A Can, Bang On A Can, Bang On A Can, Bang On A Can.
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.