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 Senegal and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Masters at Work to the grime kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Gang Starr. All the underground hits.
All Country Teasers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Blues Magoos record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a June of 44 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gang Starr,
Aural Exciters,
Suicide,
Neil Young,
Crash Course in Science,
Alice Coltrane,
Girls At Our Best!,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Cymande,
Qualms,
T. Rex,
The Doobie Brothers,
Spoonie Gee,
Popol Vuh,
John Lydon,
Pagans,
Sun City Girls,
Althea and Donna,
Delon & Dalcan,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Country Teasers,
The Gap Band,
The Kinks,
Josef K,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Big Daddy Kane,
Crooked Eye,
Clear Light,
The Evens,
Harry Pussy,
Jerry Gold Smith,
John Cale,
The Residents,
Saccharine Trust,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Make Up,
The Vogues,
Cheater Slicks,
Can,
Icehouse,
Rites of Spring,
The Happenings,
Hoover,
The Offenders,
Panda Bear,
Whodini,
The Searchers,
Erasure,
Babytalk,
Yusef Lateef,
New York Dolls,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Electric Prunes,
Talk Talk,
Sandy B,
Freddie Wadling,
Excepter,
Essential Logic,
Massinfluence,
Marc Almond,
Tim Buckley,
Jandek,
Minny Pops, Minny Pops, Minny Pops, Minny Pops.
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.