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 Tonga and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Happenings to the grunge 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 Siglo XX. All the underground hits.
All Strawberry Alarm Clock tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Flesh Eaters record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Average White Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Roger Hodgson,
Minnie Riperton,
OOIOO,
Darondo,
Donald Byrd,
Bobby Sherman,
The Martian,
The Black Dice,
The United States of America,
E-Dancer,
Albert Ayler,
Pierre Henry,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Livin' Joy,
Lebanon Hanover,
the Slits,
Mary Jane Girls,
Sex Pistols,
Ituana,
Ice-T,
The Real Kids,
Sixth Finger,
Drexciya,
The Moody Blues,
The Monks,
Tommy Roe,
A Certain Ratio,
The Dirtbombs,
Brass Construction,
Idris Muhammad,
Andrew Hill,
Pantytec,
Gang Gang Dance,
Half Japanese,
Robert Görl,
Stetsasonic,
Minny Pops,
Tom Boy,
Technova,
Radiopuhelimet,
Motorama,
The Misunderstood,
Subhumans,
Ultra Naté,
Ludus,
Patti Smith,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Smiths,
The Doobie Brothers,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Cybotron,
Buzzcocks,
Soft Cell,
K-Klass,
Youth Brigade,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Qualms,
Nick Fraelich,
Piero Umiliani,
Gil Scott Heron,
Sexual Harrassment,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Cramps,
Big Daddy Kane, Big Daddy Kane, Big Daddy Kane, Big Daddy Kane.
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.