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 Tanzania and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 Shanghai and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 oboe 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 Gian Franco Pienzio to the techno 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 Eddi Front. All the underground hits.
All Louis and Bebe Barron tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Althea and Donna record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ultimate Spinach record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Cramps,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Groovy Waters,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Crispy Ambulance,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Beau Brummels,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Crispian St. Peters,
Sound Behaviour,
Maurizio,
Electric Light Orchestra,
the Bar-Kays,
Faraquet,
Infiniti,
Model 500,
The Busters,
Eric B and Rakim,
Sex Pistols,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Stiv Bators,
F. McDonald,
The Remains,
James White and The Blacks,
Tomorrow,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Delon & Dalcan,
Cecil Taylor,
The Techniques,
LL Cool J,
Electric Prunes,
Nas,
Judy Mowatt,
Lyres,
Spoonie Gee,
The Misunderstood,
Procol Harum,
Robert Hood,
Brothers Johnson,
Donny Hathaway,
Newcleus,
Moss Icon,
Loose Ends,
Sarah Menescal,
Lou Reed,
Mandrill,
Young Marble Giants,
Bootsy Collins,
The Modern Lovers,
Crooked Eye,
K-Klass,
The Monochrome Set,
The Dead C,
Hasil Adkins,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Amazonics,
Black Pus,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Zeros,
Hoover,
Peter and Kerry, Peter and Kerry, Peter and Kerry, Peter and Kerry.
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.