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 Ukraine and from Bologna.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Matthew Halsall to the techno 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 Byron Stingily. All the underground hits.
All Man Parrish tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pet Shop Boys record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 chamberlin and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wolf Eyes,
Gastr Del Sol,
This Heat,
Marcia Griffiths,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Ronan,
Cheater Slicks,
Bizarre Inc.,
MDC,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Eve St. Jones,
Lalann,
Sugar Minott,
Alice Coltrane,
Minnie Riperton,
Jimmy McGriff,
Matthew Halsall,
The Walker Brothers,
The Fall,
Sister Nancy,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Nick Fraelich,
The Sonics,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Metal Thangz,
Brass Construction,
The Wake,
The Divine Comedy,
Marine Girls,
The Real Kids,
Surgeon,
T. Rex,
Groovy Waters,
Public Image Ltd.,
Deepchord,
June of 44,
The Leaves,
The Associates,
Ponytail,
Stiv Bators,
Barclay James Harvest,
Jeru the Damaja,
Dorothy Ashby,
Colin Newman,
Faust,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Barry Ungar,
Ralphi Rosario,
Mary Jane Girls,
Monolake,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Searchers,
John Lydon,
La Düsseldorf,
June Days,
Main Source,
Sexual Harrassment,
Massinfluence,
Motorama,
The Barracudas,
Dark Day,
The Saints,
The Smoke, The Smoke, The Smoke, The Smoke.
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.