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 India and from Copenhagen.
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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 The Standells to the rap kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Pierre Henry. All the underground hits.
All Bauhaus tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Magma record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Cowsills record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wolf Eyes,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Ronnie Foster,
Silicon Teens,
Circle Jerks,
Agent Orange,
Davy DMX,
Black Pus,
Eli Mardock,
Ken Boothe,
Erykah Badu,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Toasters,
Byron Stingily,
Half Japanese,
Roxette,
The Angels of Light,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Scrapy,
Morten Harket,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Harry Pussy,
The Fortunes,
Malaria!,
Joey Negro,
Crash Course in Science,
New Age Steppers,
Derrick Morgan,
Gregory Isaacs,
Eve St. Jones,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Pop Group,
Banda Bassotti,
The Flesh Eaters,
Deepchord,
Ice-T,
Lucky Dragons,
Brothers Johnson,
Soulsonic Force,
Minnie Riperton,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Dead Boys,
Flamin' Groovies,
Avey Tare,
Yusef Lateef,
Warsaw,
48th St. Collective,
Wire,
The Real Kids,
Glenn Branca,
The Misunderstood,
Minor Threat,
DJ Style,
Nils Olav,
the Germs,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Whodini,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Judy Mowatt,
Faraquet,
Goldenarms,
Bill Wells,
Mars,
The Residents, The Residents, The Residents, The Residents.
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.