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 Bosnia Herzegovina and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 chamberlin 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 F. McDonald to the disco kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Alphaville. All the underground hits.
All Gregory Isaacs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lungfish record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a CMW record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Newcleus,
Y Pants,
The Star Department,
Amon Düül II,
Talk Talk,
Mad Mike,
Lower 48,
Dark Day,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Golliwogs,
Marcia Griffiths,
Niagra,
The Blues Magoos,
The Electric Prunes,
Depeche Mode,
Sun Ra,
The Techniques,
Suburban Knight,
Ohio Players,
Mars,
Scan 7,
Fat Boys,
Pharoah Sanders,
Roger Hodgson,
Eli Mardock,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Warsaw,
Drexciya,
Man Eating Sloth,
Tommy Roe,
Bang On A Can,
The Fire Engines,
Ludus,
Shuggie Otis,
Accadde A,
Mr. Review,
Underground Resistance,
The Misunderstood,
Angry Samoans,
Amazonics,
Derrick May,
Sam Rivers,
Ultravox,
The Knickerbockers,
Gong,
Visage,
Slick Rick,
Negative Approach,
The Busters,
Nils Olav,
Piero Umiliani,
Sun City Girls,
Mary Jane Girls,
Skarface,
James White and The Blacks,
Black Flag,
Johnny Clarke,
U.S. Maple,
Wasted Youth,
Easy Going, Easy Going, Easy Going, Easy Going.
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.