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 Cuba and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1961 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Sex Pistols to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 B.T. Express. All the underground hits.
All Basic Channel tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nik Kershaw 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 a marimba and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mars record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Procol Harum,
Nation of Ulysses,
Bad Manners,
Scientists,
Lightning Bolt,
Wings,
Motorama,
Jimmy McGriff,
Whodini,
Guru Guru,
Delon & Dalcan,
Bluetip,
China Crisis,
Rotary Connection,
The Evens,
48th St. Collective,
Don Cherry,
Mr. Review,
X-102,
Main Source,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Standells,
Rekid,
E-Dancer,
Absolute Body Control,
Metal Thangz,
Soft Cell,
The Remains,
This Heat,
The Seeds,
Brothers Johnson,
Shoche,
Loose Ends,
Anakelly,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Iggy Pop,
The New Christs,
Yaz,
Marcia Griffiths,
Zero Boys,
Godley & Creme,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Boz Scaggs,
Cameo,
Dead Boys,
Minor Threat,
Crispy Ambulance,
KRS-One,
F. McDonald,
Quando Quango,
Reuben Wilson,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Schoolly D,
The Monks,
The Knickerbockers,
Kas Product,
Negative Approach,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Black Dice,
Gang of Four,
Pet Shop Boys,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Max Romeo, Max Romeo, Max Romeo, Max Romeo.
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.