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 Burundi and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 theremin 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 Larry & the Blue Notes to the rock kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 The Pretty Things. All the underground hits.
All Avey Tare tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Aloha Tigers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Junior Murvin record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Saints,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Golliwogs,
Jesper Dahlback,
Infiniti,
Quadrant,
The Offenders,
F. McDonald,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
AZ,
Lungfish,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Severed Heads,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Monochrome Set,
Dave Gahan,
Silicon Teens,
Tom Boy,
Bluetip,
Soul Sonic Force,
Alison Limerick,
Swell Maps,
The Doobie Brothers,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Scott Walker,
Angry Samoans,
Scion,
Gang Gang Dance,
Black Moon,
The New Christs,
Supertramp,
Agent Orange,
Los Fastidios,
Animal Collective,
The Divine Comedy,
The Monks,
Crooked Eye,
The Velvet Underground,
Whodini,
Interpol,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Joy Division,
Brothers Johnson,
Livin' Joy,
Black Flag,
The Fall,
Kerri Chandler,
The Evens,
Eddi Front,
Dawn Penn,
Au Pairs,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Stooges,
Model 500,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
the Fania All-Stars,
Bob Dylan,
Monolake,
Marmalade,
the Swans, the Swans, the Swans, the Swans.
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.