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 Ukraine and from Spokane.
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 1960 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Manchester.
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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the snare 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 The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band to the crunk 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 Max Romeo. All the underground hits.
All London Community Gospel Choir tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scion record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 chamberlin and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a ABC record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Coltrane,
the Normal,
Dead Boys,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
the Swans,
Camouflage,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Roxy Music,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Rufus Thomas,
MDC,
Scion,
Eddi Front,
ABBA,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
DJ Style,
Lyres,
Yazoo,
Easy Going,
Jeru the Damaja,
Ludus,
Big Daddy Kane,
Lucky Dragons,
Derrick May,
Metal Thangz,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Panda Bear,
The Blues Magoos,
Soul Sonic Force,
Jeff Lynne,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Camberwell Now,
Alphaville,
Lungfish,
the Human League,
Kas Product,
Eden Ahbez,
Infiniti,
Boz Scaggs,
Swans,
Ponytail,
Sun City Girls,
Reagan Youth,
Tom Boy,
Jesper Dahlback,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Fuzztones,
The Buckinghams,
Max Romeo,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
U.S. Maple,
Ronnie Foster,
Country Teasers,
Urselle,
Mandrill,
Deakin,
Amazonics,
The Angels of Light,
The Cowsills,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
the Sonics, the Sonics, the Sonics, the Sonics.
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.