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 San Marino and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 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 Steve Hackett to the punk 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 Hashim. All the underground hits.
All X-101 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sad Lovers and Giants record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marvin Gaye record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Fugs,
Mark Hollis,
The Cowsills,
Reagan Youth,
Neil Young,
Frankie Knuckles,
the Bar-Kays,
Kevin Saunderson,
Porter Ricks,
Youth Brigade,
Minor Threat,
Bronski Beat,
Adolescents,
Moby Grape,
Hot Snakes,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Invisible,
The Dirtbombs,
KRS-One,
Television Personalities,
China Crisis,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Soft Machine,
Tropical Tobacco,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Vogues,
Animal Collective,
The Doobie Brothers,
Con Funk Shun,
Erykah Badu,
Flamin' Groovies,
Henry Cow,
Aaron Thompson,
Ultravox,
Wally Richardson,
John Coltrane,
Barrington Levy,
Donny Hathaway,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Eurythmics,
Fat Boys,
Wolf Eyes,
Graham Central Station,
Japan,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Traffic Nightmare,
Arthur Verocai,
The Young Rascals,
The Doors,
The Index,
Marc Almond,
the Normal,
Whodini,
Radio Birdman,
Prince Buster,
Lalo Schifrin,
The American Breed,
The Sound,
Make Up,
The Sonics,
Sun Ra,
H. Thieme, H. Thieme, H. Thieme, H. Thieme.
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.