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 Ireland and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 Nile Rodgers 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 Angry Samoans to the jazz 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 Circle Jerks. All the underground hits.
All Animal Collective tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Andrew Hill 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang Green record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Flamin' Groovies,
the Human League,
Funky Four + One,
Heaven 17,
Laurel Aitken,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Dawn Penn,
Mo-Dettes,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The J.B.'s,
Lakeside,
AZ,
Eli Mardock,
Funkadelic,
The Offenders,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Sound,
The Moody Blues,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Standells,
Deepchord,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Kinks,
Second Layer,
Index,
Urselle,
Gong,
Quadrant,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Minutemen,
The Real Kids,
The Gun Club,
Ronnie Foster,
The Red Krayola,
a-ha,
Desert Stars,
The Searchers,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Lyres,
The Last Poets,
Excepter,
In Retrospect,
Skarface,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Lungfish,
Alton Ellis,
The Walker Brothers,
Faraquet,
Fatback Band,
June of 44,
Chrome,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Neon Judgement,
Public Enemy,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Glambeats Corp.,
X-101,
The Black Dice,
Roger Hodgson,
Fugazi,
Reuben Wilson,
Surgeon, Surgeon, Surgeon, Surgeon.
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.