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 Peru and from Calgary.
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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Calgary.
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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 The Sound to the disco kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Q and Not U. All the underground hits.
All Stetsasonic tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Model 500 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 808 and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Don Cherry record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
James White and The Blacks,
Morten Harket,
the Soft Cell,
Little Man,
Desert Stars,
The Seeds,
Piero Umiliani,
48th St. Collective,
Fad Gadget,
Ronan,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Black Pus,
The Count Five,
The Golliwogs,
Minny Pops,
June Days,
The Slits,
Terry Callier,
The Smoke,
Alphaville,
Alison Limerick,
Deakin,
Boredoms,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Angels of Light,
T. Rex,
Ludus,
Saccharine Trust,
The Mummies,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Kevin Saunderson,
the Fania All-Stars,
Mantronix,
Cal Tjader,
the Sonics,
Throbbing Gristle,
Agitation Free,
Tropical Tobacco,
Ornette Coleman,
Motorama,
Cymande,
Avey Tare,
Marmalade,
Bootsy Collins,
Gong,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Tommy Roe,
Das Ding,
Maurizio,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Bill Wells,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Mojo Men,
Duran Duran,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Techniques,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Neil Young,
New York Dolls,
Howard Jones,
Kas Product,
Black Moon,
Severed Heads, Severed Heads, Severed Heads, Severed Heads.
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.