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 Korea South and from Sao Paulo.
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 1969 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the snare 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 Lucky Dragons to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Scratch Acid. All the underground hits.
All Eve St. Jones tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mad Mike 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The American Breed 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?
The Mummies,
Khruangbin,
Q and Not U,
The Blues Magoos,
Ohio Players,
X-Ray Spex,
Eric Copeland,
Kool Moe Dee,
Vainqueur,
John Cale,
Flash Fearless,
Sex Pistols,
Y Pants,
The Move,
Tubeway Army,
Kevin Saunderson,
Mr. Review,
Swans,
Thompson Twins,
UT,
Marmalade,
Cal Tjader,
The New Christs,
The Selecter,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Nirvana,
Yaz,
Public Enemy,
Barclay James Harvest,
Can,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Doors,
Stockholm Monsters,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Marvin Gaye,
The Velvet Underground,
Wire,
Godley & Creme,
The Fall,
Joe Smooth,
ABC,
Flipper,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Half Japanese,
T. Rex,
Peter and Kerry,
Circle Jerks,
Country Teasers,
Easy Going,
The Five Americans,
the Association,
Gang Green,
Blancmange,
John Foxx,
Soul Sonic Force,
Guru Guru,
The Dirtbombs,
Negative Approach,
MC5,
Swell Maps,
Marcia Griffiths,
This Heat,
The Zeros,
Robert Görl, Robert Görl, Robert Görl, Robert Görl.
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.