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 Estonia and from Tehran.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 David Bowie 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 Reagan Youth to the funk 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 Mad Mike. All the underground hits.
All 8 Eyed Spy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Crash Course in Science record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Gichy Dan,
Kenny Larkin,
The Misunderstood,
Marmalade,
Radio Birdman,
Nas,
Archie Shepp,
Japan,
Pussy Galore,
Joe Smooth,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Last Poets,
Loose Ends,
These Immortal Souls,
Jeru the Damaja,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Barracudas,
Massinfluence,
La Düsseldorf,
Guru Guru,
Flash Fearless,
The Searchers,
The American Breed,
Jandek,
The Names,
The Move,
48th St. Collective,
Radiopuhelimet,
Jawbox,
Black Moon,
Dawn Penn,
June Days,
Los Fastidios,
Camberwell Now,
Jeff Lynne,
Amazonics,
Scan 7,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Stiv Bators,
Boredoms,
Rakim,
Blossom Toes,
Excepter,
Roy Ayers,
Johnny Osbourne,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Subhumans,
Warren Ellis,
The Motions,
Franke,
Don Cherry,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Essential Logic,
The Real Kids,
Alice Coltrane,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Pagans,
Vladislav Delay,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Barclay James Harvest, Barclay James Harvest, Barclay James Harvest, Barclay James Harvest.
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.