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 Equatorial Guinea and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 theremin 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 Niagra to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Grey Daturas. All the underground hits.
All Eyeless In Gaza tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Livin' Joy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 rhodes and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Richard Hell and the Voidoids record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Man Parrish,
The Index,
Bill Wells,
Monolake,
Radio Birdman,
David Bowie,
Siglo XX,
Andrew Hill,
Q65,
In Retrospect,
Derrick May,
Heaven 17,
Rod Modell,
Alphaville,
Fatback Band,
Sonic Youth,
Funky Four + One,
Trumans Water,
Gang of Four,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Last Poets,
F. McDonald,
Mr. Review,
Jimmy McGriff,
Intrusion,
The Happenings,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Wasted Youth,
Guru Guru,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Eddi Front,
Donald Byrd,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Boredoms,
Graham Central Station,
Curtis Mayfield,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Real Kids,
Severed Heads,
Wire,
The Martian,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Tim Buckley,
Accadde A,
Subhumans,
Royal Trux,
Janne Schatter,
John Foxx,
Kas Product,
Tomorrow,
Scratch Acid,
The Doobie Brothers,
Nirvana,
The Gories,
The Mummies,
Kevin Saunderson,
Ronnie Foster,
Gichy Dan,
FM Einheit,
The Young Rascals,
Ten City,
Skarface, Skarface, Skarface, Skarface.
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.