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 Georgia and from Mumbai.
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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Janne Schatter 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 This Heat. All the underground hits.
All Subhumans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Adolescents record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Morten Harket record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Wake,
Harry Pussy,
Juan Atkins,
The Seeds,
Robert Wyatt,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Gap Band,
The Dead C,
Lindisfarne,
B.T. Express,
Traffic Nightmare,
48th St. Collective,
Ultravox,
Erasure,
The Monks,
Gang Green,
The Trojans,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Sarah Menescal,
Sun Ra,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Wasted Youth,
Eric Copeland,
Black Bananas,
Dead Boys,
David Bowie,
Pulsallama,
Ituana,
E-Dancer,
Sister Nancy,
Joy Division,
Barry Ungar,
Gerry Rafferty,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Bluetip,
Jerry's Kids,
Sandy B,
Accadde A,
Johnny Clarke,
Nico,
The Victims,
Throbbing Gristle,
Moebius,
Dawn Penn,
Oneida,
Black Sheep,
Johnny Osbourne,
Archie Shepp,
Depeche Mode,
Drive Like Jehu,
K-Klass,
Agitation Free,
Scan 7,
Arab on Radar,
World's Most,
The Litter,
Todd Rundgren,
Adolescents,
Kerrie Biddell,
Dorothy Ashby,
Connie Case,
The Fortunes,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Mission of Burma, Mission of Burma, Mission of Burma, Mission of Burma.
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.