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 Cape Verde and from Houston.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the organ 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 Cecil Taylor to the rock kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Y Pants. All the underground hits.
All Kerrie Biddell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sexual Harrassment record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a New York Dolls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Victims,
The Cramps,
Los Fastidios,
Flipper,
Nils Olav,
John Lydon,
The Sound,
Ornette Coleman,
Bobby Byrd,
The Remains,
Tears for Fears,
Animal Collective,
Yazoo,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Junior Murvin,
Cal Tjader,
Lou Reed,
Max Romeo,
Kenny Larkin,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Neil Young,
Jerry's Kids,
The Five Americans,
John Cale,
KRS-One,
Al Stewart,
F. McDonald,
Cheater Slicks,
Wings,
Japan,
Deadbeat,
Banda Bassotti,
Urselle,
Massinfluence,
Half Japanese,
Silicon Teens,
Letta Mbulu,
Fela Kuti,
James White and The Blacks,
Yellowson,
Ponytail,
Sight & Sound,
Flamin' Groovies,
Vladislav Delay,
The Last Poets,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Marc Almond,
The Angels of Light,
Popol Vuh,
U.S. Maple,
B.T. Express,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Lungfish,
Stiv Bators,
Black Sheep,
Man Parrish,
The Trojans,
The Fall,
Parry Music,
Arab on Radar,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Eden Ahbez, Eden Ahbez, Eden Ahbez, Eden Ahbez.
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.