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 Mexico and from Calgary.
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 1966 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Bobby Byrd to the punk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Panda Bear. All the underground hits.
All ABC tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Shadows of Knight record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a James White and The Blacks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes 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,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Oneida,
Saccharine Trust,
Aural Exciters,
Deakin,
Cymande,
Malaria!,
The Martian,
Skarface,
Derrick May,
Metal Thangz,
8 Eyed Spy,
Lower 48,
AZ,
Mary Jane Girls,
Eli Mardock,
Kerri Chandler,
The Young Rascals,
Ken Boothe,
Arcadia,
Minor Threat,
Gerry Rafferty,
the Swans,
The Music Machine,
Minny Pops,
Dead Boys,
Radiopuhelimet,
Prince Buster,
Marc Almond,
The Searchers,
Camberwell Now,
Monolake,
Roger Hodgson,
Mark Hollis,
Harmonia,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Gang Starr,
Throbbing Gristle,
Scion,
Echospace,
Crispy Ambulance,
Minnie Riperton,
The Grass Roots,
48th St. Collective,
Radio Birdman,
The Count Five,
Barclay James Harvest,
Pagans,
Lalann,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Slits,
Aaron Thompson,
Sarah Menescal,
Oblivians,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Flesh Eaters,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Magma,
Rapeman,
Hasil Adkins, Hasil Adkins, Hasil Adkins, Hasil Adkins.
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.