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 Peru and from Philadelphia.
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 1962 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Fat Boys to the rap kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Eric B and Rakim. All the underground hits.
All Alphaville tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade 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 sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Popol Vuh record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dawn Penn,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Glambeats Corp.,
Pantaleimon,
Bronski Beat,
UT,
Saccharine Trust,
KRS-One,
The Wake,
Symarip,
Country Teasers,
Slave,
Prince Buster,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Erykah Badu,
Camberwell Now,
Spandau Ballet,
Japan,
Reagan Youth,
The Dead C,
Suicide,
Public Enemy,
Albert Ayler,
The Flesh Eaters,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Cabaret Voltaire,
John Coltrane,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Derrick Morgan,
The Misunderstood,
Mars,
Parry Music,
Eric Dolphy,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Ludus,
the Slits,
The United States of America,
Jandek,
Man Eating Sloth,
Nils Olav,
Joe Smooth,
Ossler,
Jeff Mills,
Sex Pistols,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Raincoats,
Boz Scaggs,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
David McCallum,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Black Moon,
Fugazi,
John Holt,
Roger Hodgson,
Dennis Brown,
Crime,
Liliput,
Lower 48,
Popol Vuh,
Eli Mardock,
T.S.O.L.,
Mad Mike,
Yaz, Yaz, Yaz, Yaz.
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.