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 United States and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 mellotron 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 the Association to the funk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Rakim. All the underground hits.
All Pulsallama tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 synthesizer and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gabor Szabo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lou Christie,
The Music Machine,
Lee Hazlewood,
the Association,
Marc Almond,
Thee Headcoats,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Fall,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Black Bananas,
Bush Tetras,
Ponytail,
Little Man,
Hasil Adkins,
The Fuzztones,
Fela Kuti,
New York Dolls,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Marshall Jefferson,
Skaos,
The Gun Club,
Man Parrish,
Royal Trux,
Joey Negro,
Hoover,
China Crisis,
Gerry Rafferty,
Soul Sonic Force,
Scion,
John Holt,
Crime,
Zapp,
Jacques Brel,
Bluetip,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Unrelated Segments,
Aloha Tigers,
The Blues Magoos,
Marvin Gaye,
Groovy Waters,
Flipper,
Lindisfarne,
Tears for Fears,
Sandy B,
The Evens,
Eric Dolphy,
The Remains,
The Motions,
The Doors,
Spandau Ballet,
Parry Music,
Dead Boys,
Model 500,
Procol Harum,
Nick Fraelich,
Scrapy,
Piero Umiliani,
Eli Mardock,
Black Moon,
Underground Resistance,
The Skatalites,
Angry Samoans,
Mantronix, Mantronix, Mantronix, Mantronix.
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.