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 Taiwan and from Jakarta.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Curtis Mayfield to the punk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Amazonics. All the underground hits.
All Rahsaan Roland Kirk tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tubeway Army 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lightning Bolt record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tommy Roe,
Unwound,
The Offenders,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Fatback Band,
Rekid,
Sällskapet,
Adolescents,
Urselle,
Inner City,
Brothers Johnson,
the Fania All-Stars,
Yusef Lateef,
Cybotron,
Ludus,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Eli Mardock,
The Leaves,
Alphaville,
Duran Duran,
Skarface,
Magma,
Monolake,
Barbara Tucker,
Silicon Teens,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Eddi Front,
Pantytec,
The Trojans,
The Gun Club,
Severed Heads,
Maleditus Sound,
Cymande,
DNA,
Althea and Donna,
Wasted Youth,
Rufus Thomas,
Slick Rick,
Scott Walker,
Radiopuhelimet,
Man Parrish,
Gichy Dan,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Mo-Dettes,
Loose Ends,
The Divine Comedy,
Hardrive,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Evens,
Spandau Ballet,
Los Fastidios,
Average White Band,
MDC,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Byron Stingily,
Youth Brigade,
The Neon Judgement,
Audionom,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Pole,
Cecil Taylor,
Amon Düül, Amon Düül, Amon Düül, Amon Düül.
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.