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 Lesotho and from Hong Kong.
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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Boogie Down Productions to the punk 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 The Men They Couldn't Hang. All the underground hits.
All EPMD tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lucky Dragons 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rotary Connection record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Simply Red,
Monolake,
Monks,
Masters at Work,
Bill Near,
Icehouse,
Los Fastidios,
Pantytec,
Ultravox,
The Fuzztones,
Andrew Hill,
Bauhaus,
Main Source,
Joensuu 1685,
The Names,
Todd Rundgren,
the Bar-Kays,
Whodini,
Crispian St. Peters,
Boogie Down Productions,
Bluetip,
Grey Daturas,
Delta 5,
Supertramp,
Angry Samoans,
Depeche Mode,
Porter Ricks,
Jerry's Kids,
The Toasters,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Quantec,
The Kinks,
T. Rex,
Delon & Dalcan,
Godley & Creme,
Graham Central Station,
Funky Four + One,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Brand Nubian,
World's Most,
Moss Icon,
Wasted Youth,
Amon Düül,
Johnny Osbourne,
Minor Threat,
Scrapy,
Morten Harket,
Blancmange,
Throbbing Gristle,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Don Cherry,
Chris & Cosey,
Neu!,
Magma,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Harmonia,
Liliput,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Pierre Henry,
Alison Limerick,
Flamin' Groovies,
Khruangbin,
Nick Fraelich, Nick Fraelich, Nick Fraelich, Nick Fraelich.
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.