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 Serbia and from New York.
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 1968 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Flamin' Groovies to the punk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Scrapy. All the underground hits.
All Sugar Minott tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Susan Cadogan record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Doobie Brothers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nik Kershaw,
Pantytec,
The Beau Brummels,
Nirvana,
Deadbeat,
Lungfish,
Pulsallama,
Lyres,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Neu!,
D'Angelo,
Roger Hodgson,
The Moody Blues,
Barclay James Harvest,
H. Thieme,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Seeds,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Curtis Mayfield,
Joensuu 1685,
Pussy Galore,
Inner City,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Public Image Ltd.,
Dual Sessions,
CMW,
Traffic Nightmare,
Aural Exciters,
Black Flag,
Gang Starr,
Derrick May,
Stetsasonic,
Shuggie Otis,
The Happenings,
Parry Music,
Man Eating Sloth,
Erykah Badu,
Anthony Braxton,
The Durutti Column,
The Gap Band,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Wake,
Don Cherry,
Von Mondo,
Wolf Eyes,
Adolescents,
Andrew Hill,
B.T. Express,
These Immortal Souls,
John Lydon,
Hardrive,
Agent Orange,
Swell Maps,
Royal Trux,
Hoover,
The Remains,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
X-Ray Spex,
T.S.O.L.,
Anakelly,
Suicide, Suicide, Suicide, Suicide.
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.