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 Tanzania and from Columbus.
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 1964 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 spring reverb 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 China Crisis to the electroclash kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Buckinghams. All the underground hits.
All The Blackbyrds tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Happenings record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Juan Atkins record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Cale,
Tropical Tobacco,
Das Ding,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Fugs,
Connie Case,
Tommy Roe,
Yaz,
E-Dancer,
Faraquet,
David Bowie,
Leonard Cohen,
Graham Central Station,
Yellowson,
Albert Ayler,
The Zeros,
Funkadelic,
Masters at Work,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Loose Ends,
Mission of Burma,
Bluetip,
Joe Smooth,
Scrapy,
Sound Behaviour,
Brass Construction,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Dave Clark Five,
U.S. Maple,
Royal Trux,
Man Eating Sloth,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Byron Stingily,
Todd Rundgren,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Rekid,
Mantronix,
Fatback Band,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Dead Boys,
Negative Approach,
Sexual Harrassment,
Steve Hackett,
Alton Ellis,
David Axelrod,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Supertramp,
Sight & Sound,
The Doobie Brothers,
One Last Wish,
The Gladiators,
Outsiders,
Sällskapet,
Electric Prunes,
Dark Day,
The United States of America,
Robert Wyatt,
Lakeside,
Eve St. Jones,
The Seeds, The Seeds, The Seeds, The Seeds.
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.