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 Cape Verde and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 Lou Reed 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 The Young Rascals 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 Delta 5. All the underground hits.
All Spandau Ballet tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ultramagnetic MC's record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Reagan Youth record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wings,
Rod Modell,
Stiv Bators,
Boogie Down Productions,
Soul II Soul,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Arthur Verocai,
Tres Demented,
Archie Shepp,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Sixth Finger,
Icehouse,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Tommy Roe,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Wasted Youth,
D'Angelo,
Soft Machine,
Con Funk Shun,
Althea and Donna,
Faraquet,
Black Moon,
Oblivians,
Joey Negro,
Bauhaus,
Magma,
The Doobie Brothers,
F. McDonald,
Youth Brigade,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Litter,
Peter & Gordon,
Tears for Fears,
Dual Sessions,
Gerry Rafferty,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Nico,
Liliput,
The New Christs,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Surgeon,
The Invisible,
Brand Nubian,
In Retrospect,
Nation of Ulysses,
Gang Green,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Fugazi,
Bad Manners,
Cluster,
Harpers Bizarre,
Ronnie Foster,
Chris Corsano,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Drexciya,
Pussy Galore,
Steve Hackett,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Victims,
Boz Scaggs,
Barry Ungar,
Banda Bassotti, Banda Bassotti, Banda Bassotti, Banda Bassotti.
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.