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 Ivory Coast and from Manchester.
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 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the sitar 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 Peanut Butter Conspiracy to the disco kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Busters. All the underground hits.
All Mark Hollis tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every FM Einheit record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eric B and Rakim record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
U.S. Maple,
AZ,
The United States of America,
the Human League,
Reuben Wilson,
Davy DMX,
The Barracudas,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Lightning Bolt,
Terrestrial Tones,
cv313,
Black Bananas,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Man Eating Sloth,
Fatback Band,
Stiv Bators,
Barrington Levy,
Yusef Lateef,
Harry Pussy,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Mission of Burma,
The Gun Club,
The Blues Magoos,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Gichy Dan,
Moss Icon,
Josef K,
The Blackbyrds,
PIL,
The Names,
Bobby Womack,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Mars,
Bobby Sherman,
Lower 48,
Glenn Branca,
Joey Negro,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Stooges,
Schoolly D,
The Leaves,
New Age Steppers,
Bill Wells,
The Monochrome Set,
Section 25,
Essential Logic,
Public Enemy,
The Dirtbombs,
Television Personalities,
The Neon Judgement,
Amon Düül,
the Slits,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Soulsonic Force,
Minutemen,
Wally Richardson,
Pantytec,
Bill Near,
Boredoms, Boredoms, Boredoms, Boredoms.
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.