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 El Salvador and from Winnipeg.
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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Rites of Spring to the disco 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 Byron Stingily. All the underground hits.
All Traffic Nightmare tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Five Americans record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eric Copeland record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Charles Mingus,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Ralphi Rosario,
X-101,
Flamin' Groovies,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Scott Walker,
Altered Images,
Roxy Music,
The Victims,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Eden Ahbez,
the Human League,
The Doobie Brothers,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Last Poets,
DNA,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Flipper,
Faust,
Morten Harket,
Pierre Henry,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Mary Jane Girls,
Matthew Bourne,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Sarah Menescal,
Delta 5,
Barry Ungar,
Banda Bassotti,
Ice-T,
Henry Cow,
Gil Scott Heron,
Alison Limerick,
The Techniques,
The Beau Brummels,
Stereo Dub,
Fear,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Infiniti,
Dawn Penn,
Sonny Sharrock,
Brothers Johnson,
Surgeon,
Pussy Galore,
Godley & Creme,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Tommy Roe,
Blossom Toes,
The Human League,
Supertramp,
Y Pants,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The United States of America,
Public Image Ltd.,
Crooked Eye,
Cecil Taylor,
Johnny Osbourne,
Aaron Thompson,
Grey Daturas,
Magazine,
Heaven 17,
Glambeats Corp.,
Spandau Ballet,
Alice Coltrane, Alice Coltrane, Alice Coltrane, Alice Coltrane.
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.