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 Dominican Republic and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Letta Mbulu to the disco kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 The Royal Family And The Poor. All the underground hits.
All Cabaret Voltaire tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sixth Finger 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Hot Snakes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
T. Rex,
Intrusion,
The Evens,
Monks,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Don Cherry,
Man Eating Sloth,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Newcleus,
Con Funk Shun,
Hardrive,
Arab on Radar,
Chrome,
The Skatalites,
Neil Young,
Easy Going,
Thee Headcoats,
Josef K,
Black Pus,
Graham Central Station,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Tubeway Army,
Nico,
Harpers Bizarre,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Lower 48,
The Durutti Column,
Tropical Tobacco,
Sällskapet,
Kayak,
Metal Thangz,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Pierre Henry,
Cymande,
Jesper Dahlback,
Minny Pops,
The Star Department,
Livin' Joy,
New Age Steppers,
Kurtis Blow,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Real Kids,
The Birthday Party,
Half Japanese,
Cybotron,
Sound Behaviour,
Gong,
Tommy Roe,
X-102,
Tres Demented,
The Gories,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Pantytec,
Qualms,
Ossler,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Gabor Szabo,
Pole,
Zero Boys,
the Slits,
Barbara Tucker, Barbara Tucker, Barbara Tucker, Barbara Tucker.
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.