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 Nicaragua 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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 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 Japan to the disco 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 Marine Girls. All the underground hits.
All Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pantaleimon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fad Gadget record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Selecter,
China Crisis,
Crime,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Gun Club,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
R.M.O.,
Steve Hackett,
Grandmaster Flash,
Zapp,
LL Cool J,
Gabor Szabo,
The Beau Brummels,
Thee Headcoats,
Ten City,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
John Foxx,
Schoolly D,
The Residents,
AZ,
Easy Going,
Junior Murvin,
Fear,
The Walker Brothers,
Scrapy,
Albert Ayler,
Crash Course in Science,
Eric B and Rakim,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Knickerbockers,
Maurizio,
The Vogues,
Man Eating Sloth,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Suburban Knight,
Harpers Bizarre,
Gang Green,
Funkadelic,
Anakelly,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Livin' Joy,
Bang On A Can,
Monks,
Jerry's Kids,
Banda Bassotti,
Deakin,
Nation of Ulysses,
Royal Trux,
Max Romeo,
Aural Exciters,
Kool Moe Dee,
Unwound,
Traffic Nightmare,
Soft Cell,
Spoonie Gee,
Stockholm Monsters,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Barry Ungar,
Cymande,
E-Dancer,
Warren Ellis,
Sight & Sound,
Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore.
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.