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 Burundi and from Beijing.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Tehran.
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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
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 The Cowsills to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 The Men They Couldn't Hang. All the underground hits.
All Crash Course in Science tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Infiniti record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Siglo XX record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Mojo Men,
The Birthday Party,
Stockholm Monsters,
Graham Central Station,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Doors,
Brass Construction,
Blake Baxter,
Joyce Sims,
PIL,
Wire,
Toni Rubio,
Girls At Our Best!,
Y Pants,
Organ,
Jerry's Kids,
Index,
Fela Kuti,
Peter and Kerry,
Scion,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Supertramp,
Flipper,
Essential Logic,
Banda Bassotti,
The Moody Blues,
Glenn Branca,
Swans,
Junior Murvin,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Angels of Light,
Drexciya,
Average White Band,
The Toasters,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Misunderstood,
Sonny Sharrock,
Japan,
Rhythm & Sound,
The Mummies,
Television Personalities,
Zero Boys,
the Normal,
Reagan Youth,
Pierre Henry,
Byron Stingily,
Tomorrow,
Nation of Ulysses,
the Human League,
B.T. Express,
Jeff Lynne,
Gil Scott Heron,
Outsiders,
Lightning Bolt,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
a-ha,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Marvin Gaye,
Mars,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Das Ding,
The Alarm Clocks, The Alarm Clocks, The Alarm Clocks, The Alarm Clocks.
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.