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 Iran and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1969 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Flesh Eaters to the dance kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Jeff Lynne. All the underground hits.
All June Days tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Grass Roots 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 an organ and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sexual Harrassment record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Connie Case,
The Count Five,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Bang On A Can,
Porter Ricks,
Barbara Tucker,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Nik Kershaw,
Frankie Knuckles,
Black Sheep,
Infiniti,
Desert Stars,
Dual Sessions,
Jeff Mills,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Grass Roots,
Brass Construction,
Glenn Branca,
The Sonics,
Soul II Soul,
Oneida,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Quando Quango,
Albert Ayler,
ABC,
Depeche Mode,
The Real Kids,
Robert Görl,
La Düsseldorf,
DNA,
Blancmange,
The Kinks,
Juan Atkins,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Simply Red,
Oblivians,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Black Bananas,
Essential Logic,
Lalo Schifrin,
Pylon,
Mars,
The Human League,
Hashim,
B.T. Express,
EPMD,
The Busters,
the Slits,
Angry Samoans,
The Dirtbombs,
Crooked Eye,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Techniques,
Aaron Thompson,
H. Thieme,
JFA,
Spoonie Gee,
The Misunderstood,
Mandrill,
The Flesh Eaters,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Wake,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Martian, The Martian, The Martian, The Martian.
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.