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 Malaysia and from New York.
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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Freddie Wadling to the grunge kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 The Peanut Butter Conspiracy. All the underground hits.
All Flamin' Groovies tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Fortunes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Cure record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
A Flock of Seagulls,
Cecil Taylor,
Los Fastidios,
Lalo Schifrin,
Bill Near,
Sun Ra,
Goldenarms,
The Star Department,
Rakim,
Mo-Dettes,
Ituana,
Drexciya,
Wire,
The Walker Brothers,
Eric B and Rakim,
Tears for Fears,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Trojans,
Donny Hathaway,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
the Fania All-Stars,
Main Source,
Guru Guru,
Parry Music,
Smog,
Masters at Work,
KRS-One,
Reagan Youth,
Deepchord,
Curtis Mayfield,
Ultimate Spinach,
Jeff Mills,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Roy Ayers,
The Five Americans,
The Last Poets,
ABC,
Gang of Four,
Aaron Thompson,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Modern Lovers,
Bootsy Collins,
Massinfluence,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Tropical Tobacco,
Das Ding,
8 Eyed Spy,
a-ha,
Hot Snakes,
Arthur Verocai,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Residents,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Blancmange,
The Pretty Things,
Sister Nancy,
Flipper,
U.S. Maple,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Bill Wells,
Flamin' Groovies,
Can,
Ice-T, Ice-T, Ice-T, Ice-T.
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.