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 Cameroon and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1963 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Accra.
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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Strawberry Alarm Clock to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Neil Young. All the underground hits.
All the Normal tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every AZ 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Association record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Babytalk,
Aaron Thompson,
The Saints,
the Fania All-Stars,
Cluster,
Dead Boys,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Slave,
The Smiths,
Thee Headcoats,
Scott Walker,
Organ,
Eric Dolphy,
Roxette,
The Beau Brummels,
The United States of America,
Echospace,
Black Flag,
The Fuzztones,
Jandek,
Gastr Del Sol,
Swans,
Jacob Miller,
E-Dancer,
Blossom Toes,
Colin Newman,
48th St. Collective,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Gregory Isaacs,
Kool Moe Dee,
Black Pus,
Wire,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Monks,
Junior Murvin,
the Normal,
cv313,
Flamin' Groovies,
Severed Heads,
Public Image Ltd.,
A Certain Ratio,
The Gun Club,
Hot Snakes,
L. Decosne,
Massinfluence,
Siglo XX,
DJ Style,
the Sonics,
Todd Terry,
Amon Düül,
Neu!,
The Busters,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Robert Hood,
The Neon Judgement,
Royal Trux,
Country Teasers,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Hardrive,
Guru Guru,
Terry Callier,
Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco.
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.