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 Somalia and from Toronto.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Pussy Galore to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Crime. All the underground hits.
All The Victims tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every It's A Beautiful Day 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Red Krayola record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Con Funk Shun,
The Fuzztones,
Connie Case,
Newcleus,
Wings,
Infiniti,
The Residents,
Rosa Yemen,
Outsiders,
James White and The Blacks,
The Tremeloes,
The Modern Lovers,
Sam Rivers,
Byron Stingily,
Fugazi,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Smoke,
The Slits,
Gong,
Monolake,
Zero Boys,
The Red Krayola,
The Five Americans,
Lee Hazlewood,
Sex Pistols,
Rotary Connection,
MDC,
Delta 5,
The Moody Blues,
New Age Steppers,
Underground Resistance,
Banda Bassotti,
Bluetip,
Livin' Joy,
48th St. Collective,
The Dirtbombs,
Graham Central Station,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
the Bar-Kays,
The Alarm Clocks,
Rod Modell,
D'Angelo,
Juan Atkins,
Animal Collective,
Qualms,
Barbara Tucker,
Joe Finger,
Scan 7,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Frankie Knuckles,
Rekid,
Warsaw,
Andrew Hill,
Make Up,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Fortunes,
The American Breed,
The Detroit Cobras,
Sällskapet,
Jeru the Damaja,
Johnny Clarke,
Vladislav Delay,
Tears for Fears, Tears for Fears, Tears for Fears, Tears for Fears.
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.