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 Swaziland and from Manchester.
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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 theremin 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 Josef K to the punk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 EPMD. All the underground hits.
All Dead Boys tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Pretty Things record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Monks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Last Poets,
Main Source,
The Monochrome Set,
Jeru the Damaja,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
F. McDonald,
The American Breed,
Jandek,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Ossler,
The Seeds,
Scratch Acid,
The Golliwogs,
The Raincoats,
Grandmaster Flash,
Q and Not U,
Charles Mingus,
The Buckinghams,
Silicon Teens,
Al Stewart,
Heaven 17,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Gladiators,
Absolute Body Control,
The Searchers,
D'Angelo,
Erykah Badu,
Whodini,
Grey Daturas,
Junior Murvin,
Barrington Levy,
Duran Duran,
Prince Buster,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Rapeman,
Black Moon,
Frankie Knuckles,
Howard Jones,
Slick Rick,
New York Dolls,
Anakelly,
Moebius,
Clear Light,
X-Ray Spex,
Goldenarms,
48th St. Collective,
Blake Baxter,
Rekid,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Cal Tjader,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Girls At Our Best!,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
In Retrospect,
Newcleus,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Pet Shop Boys,
Deadbeat,
Andrew Hill,
Fugazi,
Radio Birdman,
The Fuzztones,
10cc, 10cc, 10cc, 10cc.
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.