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 Uzbekistan and from Mumbai.
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 1965 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 guitar 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 Supertramp to the funk 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 Drexciya. All the underground hits.
All Reuben Wilson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cymande record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 theremin and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a De La Soul & Jungle Brothers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Max Romeo,
Brick,
Laurel Aitken,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Beau Brummels,
Rakim,
Barry Ungar,
H. Thieme,
Dawn Penn,
Marc Almond,
Yusef Lateef,
Quando Quango,
These Immortal Souls,
June of 44,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Unwound,
Bad Manners,
The American Breed,
Nation of Ulysses,
the Swans,
Aaron Thompson,
The Knickerbockers,
Alison Limerick,
Rotary Connection,
The Human League,
John Cale,
Cluster,
The Skatalites,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Fall,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Black Flag,
Newcleus,
Angry Samoans,
The Stooges,
Thee Headcoats,
Boogie Down Productions,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Mummies,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Jeru the Damaja,
Tears for Fears,
June Days,
Marine Girls,
Rosa Yemen,
The Buckinghams,
Youth Brigade,
Fad Gadget,
Grey Daturas,
Harry Pussy,
Traffic Nightmare,
Bronski Beat,
The Cramps,
Echospace,
Wally Richardson,
Arcadia,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Ultra Naté,
Au Pairs,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids, Richard Hell and the Voidoids, Richard Hell and the Voidoids, Richard Hell and the Voidoids.
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.