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 Samoa and from Taipei.
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 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Hong Kong.
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 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 Chris Corsano to the disco 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 Motorama. All the underground hits.
All Hot Snakes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Barbara Tucker 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a UT record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Leonard Cohen,
Crooked Eye,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Magma,
Traffic Nightmare,
Easy Going,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Dawn Penn,
John Foxx,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Junior Murvin,
Television,
Johnny Clarke,
Tomorrow,
June of 44,
Circle Jerks,
Guru Guru,
Infiniti,
Aural Exciters,
The Last Poets,
The Music Machine,
The Misunderstood,
Barry Ungar,
Wire,
The Wake,
Theoretical Girls,
Kaleidoscope,
David Bowie,
Funky Four + One,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Walker Brothers,
The Raincoats,
Royal Trux,
Deepchord,
The Gladiators,
Can,
Peter & Gordon,
Jawbox,
Donny Hathaway,
Toni Rubio,
Khruangbin,
Hot Snakes,
Harpers Bizarre,
Monks,
LL Cool J,
Deadbeat,
E-Dancer,
Cybotron,
the Soft Cell,
Lindisfarne,
Faraquet,
The Moleskins,
The Gap Band,
The Alarm Clocks,
Roxette,
The Busters,
Index,
U.S. Maple,
The Associates,
Spandau Ballet,
Make Up,
Ossler,
Eric B and Rakim, Eric B and Rakim, Eric B and Rakim, Eric B and Rakim.
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.