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 Morocco and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Section 25 to the crunk 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 Eddi Front tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every John Cale record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 güiro and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Victims record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Y Pants,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Wings,
Godley & Creme,
Bizarre Inc.,
Letta Mbulu,
Terrestrial Tones,
Icehouse,
The Red Krayola,
Joey Negro,
Sex Pistols,
Sonny Sharrock,
Altered Images,
Bobby Womack,
Scan 7,
The Real Kids,
Heaven 17,
H. Thieme,
CMW,
Nils Olav,
AZ,
Johnny Osbourne,
Gichy Dan,
the Normal,
Nico,
Ronan,
Youth Brigade,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Flesh Eaters,
the Human League,
Can,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Joyce Sims,
Slave,
Harry Pussy,
Jimmy McGriff,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Soul Sonic Force,
Gang Starr,
Robert Wyatt,
Kevin Saunderson,
Stereo Dub,
Excepter,
Ohio Players,
Theoretical Girls,
Grauzone,
Soft Cell,
Essential Logic,
Parry Music,
Andrew Hill,
KRS-One,
Chrome,
Crash Course in Science,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Public Image Ltd.,
Lightning Bolt,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Dave Clark Five,
Scott Walker,
Yellowson,
Max Romeo,
The Kinks,
EPMD, EPMD, EPMD, EPMD.
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.