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 Cambodia and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 sitar 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 Suburban Knight to the dance kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Audionom. All the underground hits.
All The Detroit Cobras tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Flesh Eaters 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fortunes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Flesh Eaters,
Gastr Del Sol,
Q65,
New York Dolls,
Iggy Pop,
Animal Collective,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Smog,
Terry Callier,
Scrapy,
Jandek,
Sarah Menescal,
Oneida,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
KRS-One,
Bobby Byrd,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Reuben Wilson,
The Saints,
The Gun Club,
John Holt,
Amon Düül,
Bobby Sherman,
The Dead C,
X-Ray Spex,
Country Teasers,
Pole,
Rapeman,
Supertramp,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Rosa Yemen,
Crooked Eye,
These Immortal Souls,
Jerry Gold Smith,
LL Cool J,
Black Pus,
Simply Red,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Silicon Teens,
T.S.O.L.,
Saccharine Trust,
the Sonics,
The Selecter,
Drexciya,
Matthew Halsall,
Sight & Sound,
Magma,
Ronan,
Graham Central Station,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Ultimate Spinach,
Fad Gadget,
The Electric Prunes,
Aloha Tigers,
Lyres,
Pere Ubu,
The Trojans,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Monks,
Soulsonic Force,
Jimmy McGriff, Jimmy McGriff, Jimmy McGriff, Jimmy McGriff.
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.