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 France and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1965 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 Nile Rodgers 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 Albert Ayler to the dance 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 Black Sheep. All the underground hits.
All The Kinks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Duran Duran record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Alice Coltrane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Last Poets,
Vladislav Delay,
Marmalade,
Angry Samoans,
Traffic Nightmare,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Aaron Thompson,
Archie Shepp,
Ornette Coleman,
Blancmange,
Bob Dylan,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Supertramp,
Rufus Thomas,
Pussy Galore,
Lalann,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Aural Exciters,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Country Teasers,
Davy DMX,
Schoolly D,
the Soft Cell,
KRS-One,
The New Christs,
Jacob Miller,
Oneida,
Bobby Womack,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Peter and Kerry,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Joy Division,
Radio Birdman,
The Index,
Monks,
a-ha,
Aloha Tigers,
Minny Pops,
Lindisfarne,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Shoche,
The Barracudas,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Minnie Riperton,
UT,
DJ Sneak,
Minutemen,
the Slits,
Leonard Cohen,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Black Sheep,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
DJ Style,
Graham Central Station,
Ituana,
Oblivians,
Mark Hollis,
Ohio Players,
Piero Umiliani,
B.T. Express,
Drive Like Jehu, Drive Like Jehu, Drive Like Jehu, Drive Like Jehu.
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.