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 Bolivia and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 clarinet 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 Whodini 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 Colin Newman. All the underground hits.
All Jerry Gold Smith tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Peter and Kerry record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 theremin and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a James Chance & The Contortions record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fugazi,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Visage,
Man Eating Sloth,
Mars,
Nico,
Reuben Wilson,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Mary Jane Girls,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Kaleidoscope,
Monks,
Curtis Mayfield,
Ralphi Rosario,
The United States of America,
Fela Kuti,
Chrome,
The Moleskins,
Nas,
Eric B and Rakim,
Crime,
Tommy Roe,
Brothers Johnson,
Peter & Gordon,
Mr. Review,
The Fall,
The Raincoats,
Mantronix,
Terrestrial Tones,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Clear Light,
The Gun Club,
Maleditus Sound,
Max Romeo,
Radiohead,
Liliput,
The Zeros,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Marvin Gaye,
The Residents,
Warsaw,
Barry Ungar,
Soulsonic Force,
Lightning Bolt,
Jerry's Kids,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Count Five,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Hot Snakes,
Echospace,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Star Department,
ABBA,
UT,
Tropical Tobacco,
Rod Modell,
Whodini,
Q and Not U,
Kool Moe Dee,
Ohio Players,
Public Enemy,
Soft Cell, Soft Cell, Soft Cell, Soft Cell.
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.