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 Ecuador and from Columbus.
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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Boz Scaggs to the jazz 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 Lafayette Afro Rock Band. All the underground hits.
All Gang Gang Dance tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Fugs record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Crooked Eye record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pantytec,
Spandau Ballet,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Lee Hazlewood,
Wolf Eyes,
Fugazi,
Matthew Bourne,
LL Cool J,
Quando Quango,
Loose Ends,
Lower 48,
Ultimate Spinach,
Visage,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Barbara Tucker,
Audionom,
Bobby Byrd,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Red Krayola,
Kerrie Biddell,
Flipper,
Little Man,
Lalo Schifrin,
Gregory Isaacs,
Black Flag,
Quadrant,
Ponytail,
Japan,
John Holt,
Crispy Ambulance,
Fad Gadget,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Gang of Four,
The Standells,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Byron Stingily,
The Gun Club,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Von Mondo,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
These Immortal Souls,
Grey Daturas,
The Detroit Cobras,
Donny Hathaway,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Girls At Our Best!,
Skriet,
The Doobie Brothers,
Warsaw,
The Pretty Things,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Reuben Wilson,
Yellowson,
Mission of Burma,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Happenings,
Tom Boy,
Model 500,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Radiopuhelimet,
Zero Boys,
Juan Atkins, Juan Atkins, Juan Atkins, Juan Atkins.
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.