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 Andorra and from Copenhagen.
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 1964 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 808 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 Technova to the punk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Kevin Saunderson. All the underground hits.
All The Shadows of Knight tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ultravox 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kings Of Tomorrow record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gabor Szabo,
Pulsallama,
Ludus,
Black Pus,
The Smoke,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Smiths,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Icehouse,
Peter and Kerry,
Jeff Lynne,
Aswad,
Eddi Front,
Joensuu 1685,
Von Mondo,
Tommy Roe,
Wolf Eyes,
Gichy Dan,
Archie Shepp,
Tres Demented,
Organ,
Gang Starr,
Country Teasers,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Flamin' Groovies,
Aaron Thompson,
Faust,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Quadrant,
Pole,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Aural Exciters,
the Human League,
Lungfish,
Lou Reed,
Can,
Pere Ubu,
Whodini,
New Age Steppers,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Blackbyrds,
Drive Like Jehu,
PIL,
Franke,
Spoonie Gee,
Camouflage,
Roy Ayers,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Liliput,
Banda Bassotti,
Flash Fearless,
The Sonics,
Public Image Ltd.,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Swans,
Fad Gadget,
Q65,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Nirvana,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Harpers Bizarre, Harpers Bizarre, Harpers Bizarre, Harpers Bizarre.
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.