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 Tuvalu and from Halifax.
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 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 rhodes 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 Jacques Brel to the rap 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 Kango’s Stein Massive. All the underground hits.
All John Coltrane tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Aural Exciters record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 an organ and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Von Mondo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Last Poets,
Robert Görl,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Litter,
X-Ray Spex,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Moody Blues,
The Monks,
Youth Brigade,
John Foxx,
the Soft Cell,
MC5,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
New Age Steppers,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Glenn Branca,
Rod Modell,
Intrusion,
Pharoah Sanders,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Panda Bear,
Don Cherry,
Mars,
Chrome,
Frankie Knuckles,
Nick Fraelich,
Simply Red,
Danielle Patucci,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Swans,
The Fugs,
Alice Coltrane,
The Motions,
Section 25,
Barrington Levy,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Matthew Halsall,
Blake Baxter,
Vladislav Delay,
The Happenings,
Johnny Clarke,
Barry Ungar,
Swell Maps,
The Cowsills,
Davy DMX,
Dead Boys,
Neu!,
Niagra,
Ituana,
Moss Icon,
Ronnie Foster,
Radiohead,
Letta Mbulu,
The Beau Brummels,
The Doors,
Procol Harum,
Marcia Griffiths,
FM Einheit,
Brick,
Sonic Youth,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Morten Harket,
Arab on Radar,
Sandy B, Sandy B, Sandy B, Sandy B.
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.