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 Costa Rica and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 Beijing and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Funky Four + One to the rap 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 Barclay James Harvest. All the underground hits.
All The Gun Club tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Deakin record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Moleskins record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fela Kuti,
Funkadelic,
K-Klass,
Josef K,
Marine Girls,
Arthur Verocai,
Amazonics,
The Star Department,
Bobby Byrd,
John Cale,
Albert Ayler,
Bobby Sherman,
Severed Heads,
Q and Not U,
The Fire Engines,
The Shadows of Knight,
kango's stein massive,
Bob Dylan,
Scientists,
Ultravox,
Visage,
EPMD,
Niagra,
Fear,
The Count Five,
Jeru the Damaja,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Smoke,
Suicide,
F. McDonald,
Dead Boys,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Franke,
New Age Steppers,
Barbara Tucker,
Second Layer,
Kayak,
The Durutti Column,
Quantec,
Groovy Waters,
Terrestrial Tones,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
the Normal,
Y Pants,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The American Breed,
H. Thieme,
Mo-Dettes,
Anakelly,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Gories,
LL Cool J,
Ituana,
Model 500,
Section 25,
Agent Orange,
T.S.O.L.,
Spoonie Gee,
The Pop Group,
Bizarre Inc.,
Lucky Dragons,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Surgeon,
Adolescents, Adolescents, Adolescents, Adolescents.
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.