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 Armenia and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 Robert Palmer 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 Wake to the rock kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Ajijia Myrayebe. All the underground hits.
All The Searchers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Vaughan Mason & Crew record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Electric Prunes,
Blake Baxter,
The New Christs,
Mandrill,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
the Sonics,
Icehouse,
Nirvana,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Cecil Taylor,
The Barracudas,
Loose Ends,
Flash Fearless,
Young Marble Giants,
The Skatalites,
Bobby Byrd,
Matthew Halsall,
Absolute Body Control,
Rod Modell,
The Fire Engines,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Skarface,
Yaz,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Jeff Lynne,
Royal Trux,
Bobby Sherman,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Martian,
Ohio Players,
Glenn Branca,
Minutemen,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Pylon,
Tropical Tobacco,
Main Source,
The Cowsills,
Morten Harket,
Gang Gang Dance,
Lou Christie,
Steve Hackett,
The Beau Brummels,
Au Pairs,
Urselle,
DNA,
David Bowie,
Al Stewart,
Ronan,
ABBA,
June of 44,
Infiniti,
Sex Pistols,
Mary Jane Girls,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Tubeway Army,
Ituana,
Con Funk Shun,
The Dirtbombs,
The Mummies,
Letta Mbulu, Letta Mbulu, Letta Mbulu, Letta Mbulu.
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.