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 Grenada and from Accra.
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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 The Blues Magoos to the punk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 CMW. All the underground hits.
All Model 500 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tubeway Army record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 linndrum and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Pus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Animal Collective,
K-Klass,
John Holt,
Harpers Bizarre,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Radiohead,
Radio Birdman,
Donny Hathaway,
Marvin Gaye,
Bobby Womack,
Camberwell Now,
Index,
The Tremeloes,
Scrapy,
Dead Boys,
Dark Day,
Ohio Players,
Ultimate Spinach,
Warren Ellis,
The Move,
Ice-T,
Mo-Dettes,
June Days,
Ken Boothe,
Lou Christie,
Roy Ayers,
Man Parrish,
Agent Orange,
Stetsasonic,
Intrusion,
Ornette Coleman,
Arthur Verocai,
Swans,
The Leaves,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Monolake,
Howard Jones,
Toni Rubio,
Max Romeo,
Scott Walker,
Kerri Chandler,
Curtis Mayfield,
The American Breed,
Wolf Eyes,
The Motions,
Crime,
Bill Wells,
Andrew Hill,
Barrington Levy,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Malaria!,
Shuggie Otis,
Average White Band,
Youth Brigade,
Procol Harum,
Matthew Bourne,
Tropical Tobacco,
the Soft Cell,
Banda Bassotti,
Little Man,
Ten City,
James Chance & The Contortions, James Chance & The Contortions, James Chance & The Contortions, James Chance & The Contortions.
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.