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 Ethiopia and from Beijing.
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 1963 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Radio Birdman to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra. All the underground hits.
All Jandek tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gabor Szabo 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Todd Rundgren record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
ABBA,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Mantronix,
Traffic Nightmare,
Mandrill,
Depeche Mode,
Sight & Sound,
The Angels of Light,
Rosa Yemen,
June of 44,
Hasil Adkins,
Black Sheep,
The Monks,
Scratch Acid,
Das Ding,
Glenn Branca,
Eric Dolphy,
David Axelrod,
Moebius,
Ponytail,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
the Soft Cell,
Sällskapet,
Danielle Patucci,
H. Thieme,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Erykah Badu,
Tres Demented,
Clear Light,
Kas Product,
Deepchord,
UT,
Neu!,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Sound,
Anakelly,
Kenny Larkin,
Eli Mardock,
Thee Headcoats,
Altered Images,
Roy Ayers,
The Alarm Clocks,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Offenders,
Rufus Thomas,
Monks,
The Black Dice,
Swans,
E-Dancer,
Mary Jane Girls,
Minny Pops,
Ronnie Foster,
Toni Rubio,
PIL,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
the Fania All-Stars,
R.M.O.,
The Young Rascals,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Ten City,
The Real Kids, The Real Kids, The Real Kids, The Real Kids.
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.