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 Yemen and from Shanghai.
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 1962 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Lagos.
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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the 808 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 The Velvet Underground to the funk 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 The J.B.'s. All the underground hits.
All Girls At Our Best! tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gang Green record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Slackers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Iggy Pop,
Tropical Tobacco,
Minny Pops,
Desert Stars,
The Detroit Cobras,
Aural Exciters,
Davy DMX,
The Slits,
John Holt,
LL Cool J,
Stetsasonic,
Buzzcocks,
Sexual Harrassment,
Aaron Thompson,
Lou Reed,
Ken Boothe,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Smiths,
The Shadows of Knight,
Newcleus,
Toni Rubio,
Hardrive,
Rod Modell,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Barrington Levy,
Freddie Wadling,
Suicide,
The Barracudas,
Tubeway Army,
Moss Icon,
The Litter,
Isaac Hayes,
Junior Murvin,
Blake Baxter,
The Velvet Underground,
The Fortunes,
Spandau Ballet,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Goldenarms,
Eve St. Jones,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Modern Lovers,
Absolute Body Control,
Circle Jerks,
Marine Girls,
Mars,
T.S.O.L.,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Second Layer,
Silicon Teens,
Rufus Thomas,
Reagan Youth,
The Durutti Column,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
The Electric Prunes,
Wings,
The J.B.'s,
the Slits,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
H. Thieme, H. Thieme, H. Thieme, H. Thieme.
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.