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 Congo and from Tokyo.
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 1968 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark to the dance 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 New York Dolls. All the underground hits.
All David Axelrod tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every L. Decosne 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scientists record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Porter Ricks,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Barrington Levy,
L. Decosne,
Marmalade,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Martian,
Juan Atkins,
Ronnie Foster,
Derrick May,
Peter and Kerry,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Mad Mike,
Pylon,
Kayak,
John Cale,
Howard Jones,
Wings,
Barbara Tucker,
Ituana,
Fear,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Sisters of Mercy,
10cc,
Adolescents,
the Bar-Kays,
Man Eating Sloth,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
John Holt,
The J.B.'s,
The Sonics,
Harpers Bizarre,
Television,
Byron Stingily,
Massinfluence,
Duran Duran,
DJ Style,
Lucky Dragons,
Lalo Schifrin,
Babytalk,
Lou Reed,
The Searchers,
Guru Guru,
The Wake,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Bobby Sherman,
Ornette Coleman,
Judy Mowatt,
Johnny Clarke,
Lungfish,
Grauzone,
Angry Samoans,
Cameo,
Young Marble Giants,
The Residents,
Supertramp,
Heaven 17,
The Moody Blues,
Aloha Tigers,
Kevin Saunderson,
Altered Images,
Isaac Hayes,
Black Flag, Black Flag, Black Flag, Black Flag.
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.