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 Serbia and from New York.
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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the oboe 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 Pierre Henry to the disco kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Crispian St. Peters. All the underground hits.
All Gong tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Skarface 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Television record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Masters at Work,
The Smiths,
The Angels of Light,
Gregory Isaacs,
Man Parrish,
The Slits,
H. Thieme,
Dorothy Ashby,
Oneida,
Grandmaster Flash,
Michelle Simonal,
Minny Pops,
The Divine Comedy,
The Gories,
Popol Vuh,
Wally Richardson,
Alison Limerick,
Josef K,
Zapp,
Terry Callier,
JFA,
Scrapy,
Siglo XX,
Delta 5,
Marine Girls,
Prince Buster,
Fad Gadget,
Visage,
The Selecter,
Loose Ends,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Don Cherry,
Spoonie Gee,
Unrelated Segments,
Hoover,
Johnny Osbourne,
Make Up,
Skriet,
The Skatalites,
Jandek,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Rosa Yemen,
Warsaw,
Eric Copeland,
Girls At Our Best!,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Birthday Party,
Hashim,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Scott Walker,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Index,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Motions,
Lyres,
a-ha,
Franke,
Joensuu 1685,
The Knickerbockers,
Aloha Tigers,
Donald Byrd,
Yaz,
Connie Case, Connie Case, Connie Case, Connie Case.
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.