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 Cyprus and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 sitar 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 Black Sheep to the disco kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Wasted Youth. All the underground hits.
All Kerrie Biddell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sonny Sharrock record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Unwound record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Grey Daturas,
Leonard Cohen,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Trumans Water,
Jacques Brel,
Gang Starr,
Connie Case,
Lyres,
The Residents,
the Bar-Kays,
Andrew Hill,
Absolute Body Control,
Piero Umiliani,
Thompson Twins,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Barracudas,
Black Pus,
Marshall Jefferson,
Cluster,
the Slits,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Vladislav Delay,
Metal Thangz,
48th St. Collective,
Pussy Galore,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Mad Mike,
Pulsallama,
Cal Tjader,
Eric Copeland,
ABBA,
Sandy B,
James White and The Blacks,
EPMD,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Nas,
Big Daddy Kane,
Mars,
Franke,
Rites of Spring,
The Toasters,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Unwound,
Fat Boys,
Bobby Byrd,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
T. Rex,
Mo-Dettes,
Susan Cadogan,
The Music Machine,
Radio Birdman,
The Sonics,
Marcia Griffiths,
Joey Negro,
Desert Stars,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Joy Division,
The Fire Engines,
Monks, Monks, Monks, Monks.
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.