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 Turkey and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Spandau Ballet to the crunk 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 Bang on a Can All-Stars. All the underground hits.
All The Dave Clark Five tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Saccharine Trust record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 an arpeggiator and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Groovy Waters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Drive Like Jehu,
The Buckinghams,
The Toasters,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Victims,
The Angels of Light,
Pantaleimon,
Ralphi Rosario,
Theoretical Girls,
H. Thieme,
EPMD,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Amon Düül II,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Kurtis Blow,
Dark Day,
Scan 7,
Livin' Joy,
Maurizio,
Suicide,
Johnny Clarke,
Sight & Sound,
The Misunderstood,
The Saints,
Con Funk Shun,
Lungfish,
The Martian,
Wolf Eyes,
X-102,
Young Marble Giants,
Black Bananas,
The Cure,
Roger Hodgson,
Lou Christie,
The Kinks,
Tom Boy,
Barbara Tucker,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Scientists,
The Trojans,
Skarface,
Barrington Levy,
Derrick May,
The Beau Brummels,
Sugar Minott,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Q65,
Cecil Taylor,
Kayak,
Iggy Pop,
Dennis Brown,
In Retrospect,
Japan,
The Velvet Underground,
Soft Machine,
Gregory Isaacs,
Angry Samoans,
Marine Girls,
Davy DMX,
Wasted Youth,
Deepchord,
Gang Green,
The Seeds, The Seeds, The Seeds, The Seeds.
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.