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 Colombia and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Move to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Vainqueur. All the underground hits.
All Hot Snakes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crooked Eye 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Flag record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Doobie Brothers,
Oblivians,
Ken Boothe,
The Vogues,
The Invisible,
Nation of Ulysses,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Pierre Henry,
Fatback Band,
Donald Byrd,
Thee Headcoats,
Rites of Spring,
Anthony Braxton,
Minny Pops,
Alice Coltrane,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Birthday Party,
Jesper Dahlback,
Arthur Verocai,
The Slits,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Mojo Men,
Make Up,
Blake Baxter,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Mary Jane Girls,
Magazine,
Sun City Girls,
Loose Ends,
Sparks,
Fela Kuti,
Curtis Mayfield,
Pharoah Sanders,
Smog,
Sexual Harrassment,
Country Teasers,
Surgeon,
Jeru the Damaja,
DNA,
Don Cherry,
The Leaves,
The Moody Blues,
PIL,
Black Pus,
Bootsy Collins,
Audionom,
Scratch Acid,
the Association,
Alphaville,
China Crisis,
The Raincoats,
Scott Walker,
X-101,
The Dirtbombs,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Fuzztones,
Unrelated Segments, Unrelated Segments, Unrelated Segments, Unrelated Segments.
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.