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 Dominican Republic and from Mexico City.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and New York.
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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Barracudas to the funk 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 Gian Franco Pienzio. All the underground hits.
All Leonard Cohen tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nik Kershaw record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 snare and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Last Poets record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Tremeloes,
Dawn Penn,
The Misunderstood,
The Electric Prunes,
The Human League,
Faust,
The Angels of Light,
Kerri Chandler,
Visage,
The Toasters,
Ralphi Rosario,
Inner City,
X-101,
Max Romeo,
the Germs,
The Walker Brothers,
ABC,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Nils Olav,
B.T. Express,
Funky Four + One,
Wire,
Mantronix,
Buzzcocks,
Organ,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Aural Exciters,
Crime,
Steve Hackett,
The Moody Blues,
Technova,
The Dead C,
Nico,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Sonny Sharrock,
Popol Vuh,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Fortunes,
Chrome,
Duran Duran,
Jeff Lynne,
Sam Rivers,
Goldenarms,
Freddie Wadling,
Frankie Knuckles,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Masters at Work,
The Skatalites,
Gang Starr,
Marc Almond,
Q65,
Reuben Wilson,
Charles Mingus,
kango's stein massive,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Bobby Womack,
Matthew Halsall,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The New Christs,
Sällskapet,
Model 500,
Gang of Four, Gang of Four, Gang of Four, Gang of Four.
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.