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 Russia and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Stiv Bators to the rock kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Notorious Big And Bone Thugs. All the underground hits.
All Drive Like Jehu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bang on a Can All-Stars 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T.S.O.L. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Man Eating Sloth,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Rotary Connection,
Jesper Dahlback,
Roxy Music,
JFA,
Rhythm & Sound,
The Flesh Eaters,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Matthew Halsall,
Danielle Patucci,
Mission of Burma,
Amazonics,
Johnny Clarke,
B.T. Express,
These Immortal Souls,
Josef K,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Buckinghams,
Lungfish,
Royal Trux,
The Dave Clark Five,
Marmalade,
Brand Nubian,
Neil Young,
The Music Machine,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Slick Rick,
The Slackers,
Tres Demented,
Section 25,
Bill Near,
Black Sheep,
Half Japanese,
Agitation Free,
Soft Machine,
Man Parrish,
Lou Reed,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Icehouse,
Grey Daturas,
Ponytail,
Lightning Bolt,
Fat Boys,
Dead Boys,
Alphaville,
Jacques Brel,
10cc,
Eric Dolphy,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Monochrome Set,
Soul II Soul,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
June of 44,
Dave Gahan,
Sam Rivers,
Television Personalities,
Bang On A Can,
Parry Music,
Brick,
The Vogues,
One Last Wish, One Last Wish, One Last Wish, One Last Wish.
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.