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 Iceland and from Tehran.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 R.M.O. to the disco kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 In Retrospect. All the underground hits.
All This Heat tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wolf Eyes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gong record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Fire Engines,
Rekid,
The Gladiators,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Mad Mike,
Johnny Clarke,
Hashim,
David Axelrod,
Dorothy Ashby,
Infiniti,
Bill Wells,
Lungfish,
Surgeon,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Beau Brummels,
The Names,
The Fall,
Gang Gang Dance,
Little Man,
Darondo,
Joey Negro,
Gang Starr,
The Grass Roots,
Can,
Eric B and Rakim,
Sixth Finger,
Scrapy,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The Offenders,
Rod Modell,
Saccharine Trust,
The Detroit Cobras,
Electric Light Orchestra,
the Bar-Kays,
Depeche Mode,
Mo-Dettes,
Andrew Hill,
The Smoke,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Busters,
The Seeds,
Charles Mingus,
Mark Hollis,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Searchers,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Tears for Fears,
Aswad,
The Invisible,
Peter and Kerry,
Vainqueur,
The Electric Prunes,
Fad Gadget,
Grey Daturas,
Adolescents,
Arcadia,
Throbbing Gristle,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Motions,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Monochrome Set,
Lindisfarne, Lindisfarne, Lindisfarne, Lindisfarne.
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.