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 Singapore and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Niagra to the rap 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 Tropical Tobacco. All the underground hits.
All K-Klass tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Monks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lungfish record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Todd Rundgren,
Sparks,
Tears for Fears,
Scrapy,
X-102,
Michelle Simonal,
Make Up,
Arab on Radar,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Talk Talk,
Organ,
The Black Dice,
Tubeway Army,
Stiv Bators,
T.S.O.L.,
Sixth Finger,
Fela Kuti,
the Normal,
Wolf Eyes,
The Litter,
Cheater Slicks,
The Evens,
Sister Nancy,
Animal Collective,
Kaleidoscope,
Marshall Jefferson,
Swell Maps,
The Cure,
Anakelly,
Scratch Acid,
Oneida,
The Fugs,
Scott Walker,
Reagan Youth,
Vladislav Delay,
Lower 48,
The Fire Engines,
The Dave Clark Five,
Quando Quango,
Drive Like Jehu,
Gong,
Tom Boy,
48th St. Collective,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Star Department,
Blancmange,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Ludus,
Dead Boys,
Quantec,
Minutemen,
The Residents,
Altered Images,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Public Enemy,
Dorothy Ashby,
Symarip,
The Alarm Clocks,
UT,
The Buckinghams,
Arthur Verocai,
Andrew Hill,
The Invisible,
the Germs, the Germs, the Germs, the Germs.
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.