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 Iceland and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1963 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 guitar 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 Q and Not U to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Divine Comedy. All the underground hits.
All The Angels of Light tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Birthday Party record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 marimba and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Be Bop Deluxe record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
New Age Steppers,
Althea and Donna,
the Slits,
Barclay James Harvest,
Mr. Review,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Prince Buster,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Tubeway Army,
The Associates,
The Leaves,
Depeche Mode,
The Monks,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Connie Case,
Albert Ayler,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Suicide,
The Happenings,
Franke,
Ken Boothe,
B.T. Express,
Morten Harket,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Mission of Burma,
Barrington Levy,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Charles Mingus,
Roxette,
Anthony Braxton,
Crime,
John Lydon,
Arab on Radar,
Goldenarms,
The Searchers,
Glenn Branca,
John Foxx,
The Mummies,
Marvin Gaye,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Misunderstood,
Eddi Front,
Bizarre Inc.,
Sonny Sharrock,
Unrelated Segments,
Zero Boys,
H. Thieme,
The Litter,
Symarip,
John Cale,
Black Sheep,
Glambeats Corp.,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Roger Hodgson,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Yazoo,
Bluetip,
Fugazi,
The Skatalites,
Gang of Four, Gang of Four, Gang of Four, Gang of Four.
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.