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 Sri Lanka and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 spring reverb 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 Archie Shepp to the grime 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 Man Eating Sloth. All the underground hits.
All Anthony Braxton tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Al Stewart 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Terror Squad Feat. Camron record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rites of Spring,
Moss Icon,
Visage,
Suburban Knight,
Sonic Youth,
Max Romeo,
Ten City,
Arthur Verocai,
The Standells,
The Shadows of Knight,
Vainqueur,
Scratch Acid,
Main Source,
Cymande,
Heaven 17,
The Martian,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Supertramp,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Surgeon,
Trumans Water,
Sandy B,
Davy DMX,
Drive Like Jehu,
Sam Rivers,
Ituana,
Interpol,
Negative Approach,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Aloha Tigers,
Robert Wyatt,
Newcleus,
Archie Shepp,
Grauzone,
Quando Quango,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Crispian St. Peters,
Rakim,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Ossler,
DNA,
Duran Duran,
Ralphi Rosario,
Harry Pussy,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Colin Newman,
Q65,
Black Pus,
Eric B and Rakim,
Lungfish,
Faraquet,
Alphaville,
CMW,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Tremeloes,
Flamin' Groovies,
Jerry Gold Smith,
the Normal, the Normal, the Normal, the Normal.
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.