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 Afghanistan and from Manchester.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Lower 48 to the funk 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 Robert Hood. All the underground hits.
All The Fugs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every kango's stein massive record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Pretty Things 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?
Eric Copeland,
The Index,
Neil Young,
Peter & Gordon,
Nick Fraelich,
the Association,
Rakim,
The Sound,
Suburban Knight,
Outsiders,
Blancmange,
Swans,
Japan,
John Lydon,
Pulsallama,
Black Bananas,
Simply Red,
Jeff Lynne,
Bad Manners,
UT,
The Modern Lovers,
The Associates,
Deepchord,
Barclay James Harvest,
Laurel Aitken,
Gang of Four,
Masters at Work,
Technova,
The Fall,
Harpers Bizarre,
The New Christs,
Cheater Slicks,
Terry Callier,
Gastr Del Sol,
Yazoo,
The Cosmic Jokers,
X-Ray Spex,
Qualms,
EPMD,
Adolescents,
Kayak,
Matthew Bourne,
John Holt,
Eden Ahbez,
Rod Modell,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
ABC,
Lalann,
the Slits,
Ituana,
Aaron Thompson,
Ice-T,
Tropical Tobacco,
Graham Central Station,
The United States of America,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Lakeside,
Underground Resistance,
The Dave Clark Five,
Scan 7,
Maleditus Sound,
Bang On A Can, Bang On A Can, Bang On A Can, Bang On A Can.
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.