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 Hungary and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1965 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Symarip to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Wally Richardson. All the underground hits.
All The Fugs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every 48th St. Collective record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 linndrum and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Zero Boys record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lightning Bolt,
The Five Americans,
Black Bananas,
LL Cool J,
Swans,
The Dead C,
The Cramps,
New Age Steppers,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Ronnie Foster,
Buzzcocks,
Outsiders,
Average White Band,
Khruangbin,
Amazonics,
Shoche,
Laurel Aitken,
Archie Shepp,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Fugs,
The Toasters,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Eden Ahbez,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Ultimate Spinach,
John Lydon,
Nas,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The New Christs,
The Remains,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Smiths,
Pylon,
Radio Birdman,
DNA,
The Offenders,
a-ha,
Tim Buckley,
Barrington Levy,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Motions,
Gastr Del Sol,
Porter Ricks,
Stockholm Monsters,
Lyres,
Groovy Waters,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Neu!,
Pierre Henry,
The Associates,
Peter and Kerry,
The Fuzztones,
Whodini,
Suicide,
The Names,
The Dirtbombs,
EPMD,
Desert Stars, Desert Stars, Desert Stars, Desert Stars.
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.