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 Suriname and from Stockholm.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Young Marble Giants to the funk 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 Dennis Brown. All the underground hits.
All The Associates tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Cowsills record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobby Hutcherson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jerry's Kids,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Urselle,
New Age Steppers,
Magma,
Spoonie Gee,
Pagans,
Monolake,
Nils Olav,
The Litter,
Hashim,
The Residents,
Robert Hood,
Sex Pistols,
The Modern Lovers,
Joe Smooth,
Faust,
Neu!,
New York Dolls,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Dawn Penn,
Heaven 17,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Roy Ayers,
The Zeros,
Visage,
Yazoo,
Marvin Gaye,
Liliput,
The Red Krayola,
Mission of Burma,
the Swans,
Basic Channel,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
the Sonics,
KRS-One,
Davy DMX,
Andrew Hill,
Leonard Cohen,
Peter & Gordon,
The Golliwogs,
Tomorrow,
Duran Duran,
Khruangbin,
Donny Hathaway,
Graham Central Station,
Das Ding,
Electric Prunes,
David Bowie,
Icehouse,
Vainqueur,
Roger Hodgson,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Barracudas,
Excepter,
Radiopuhelimet,
Negative Approach,
Lalann,
the Normal,
Pantytec,
Rites of Spring, Rites of Spring, Rites of Spring, Rites of Spring.
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.