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 Russia and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1968 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 organ 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 Heaven 17 to the rock kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Jerry Gold Smith. All the underground hits.
All Nico tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every OOIOO 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fugs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Drexciya,
The Fugs,
Country Teasers,
Scott Walker,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Robert Wyatt,
Marmalade,
Terry Callier,
Intrusion,
Accadde A,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Slave,
June of 44,
D'Angelo,
Quantec,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Barbara Tucker,
Animal Collective,
The Litter,
Gong,
Vainqueur,
Groovy Waters,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Clear Light,
The Techniques,
Kenny Larkin,
Siglo XX,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Mojo Men,
Alison Limerick,
The Flesh Eaters,
Cybotron,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Slick Rick,
Sugar Minott,
Mr. Review,
Michelle Simonal,
Wings,
Johnny Clarke,
Todd Rundgren,
Sam Rivers,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Steve Hackett,
Delta 5,
Guru Guru,
Sarah Menescal,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Mantronix,
Tubeway Army,
The Monks,
DJ Sneak,
Qualms,
The Dead C,
Symarip,
Ice-T,
Q65,
UT,
Eli Mardock, Eli Mardock, Eli Mardock, Eli Mardock.
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.