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 Papua New Guinea and from Bologna.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Pussy Galore to the disco 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 Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog. All the underground hits.
All Cybotron tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Magma 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Sonics record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Au Pairs,
Monks,
Brick,
Masters at Work,
The Martian,
Marine Girls,
The Slits,
Althea and Donna,
Dawn Penn,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Mummies,
Qualms,
Clear Light,
T. Rex,
Gang Starr,
DJ Style,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Hoover,
Deadbeat,
Whodini,
Maleditus Sound,
Intrusion,
Suicide,
L. Decosne,
Leonard Cohen,
Soul Sonic Force,
X-101,
kango's stein massive,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Subhumans,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Outsiders,
Marmalade,
Tom Boy,
The Real Kids,
DJ Sneak,
Deakin,
Popol Vuh,
Arthur Verocai,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Residents,
X-102,
Terry Callier,
Jawbox,
cv313,
Maurizio,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Cal Tjader,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Fat Boys,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Unrelated Segments,
Joey Negro,
Terrestrial Tones,
Henry Cow,
Lungfish,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Black Dice,
Junior Murvin,
The Gladiators,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme, Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme, Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme, Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme.
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.