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 Uganda and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Lungfish to the dance kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band. All the underground hits.
All Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Deepchord 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Steve Hackett record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Arthur Verocai,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Ornette Coleman,
Aaron Thompson,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Tropical Tobacco,
Robert Görl,
Harpers Bizarre,
Pole,
Big Daddy Kane,
Khruangbin,
The Toasters,
Wasted Youth,
The Stooges,
Bobby Sherman,
Sällskapet,
Angry Samoans,
Max Romeo,
Lalann,
Mars,
Steve Hackett,
Tomorrow,
Gang of Four,
Excepter,
Rod Modell,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Pylon,
Ronan,
Qualms,
Fatback Band,
Johnny Clarke,
David Bowie,
Monks,
Dorothy Ashby,
China Crisis,
the Sonics,
Lower 48,
Symarip,
The Trojans,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Unwound,
Minor Threat,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Cowsills,
Bootsy Collins,
Nirvana,
Faraquet,
Dead Boys,
Chrome,
Joe Finger,
Bill Wells,
ABBA,
Sun City Girls,
Piero Umiliani,
Soft Machine,
Nico,
the Swans,
The Last Poets,
Lyres,
Vainqueur,
The Standells,
Metal Thangz,
Fugazi, Fugazi, Fugazi, Fugazi.
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.