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 Iraq and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Stockholm.
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 mellotron 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 Electric Prunes to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Tears for Fears. All the underground hits.
All Howard Jones tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crispian St. Peters record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Barrington Levy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Minor Threat,
The Dead C,
Ultravox,
X-102,
The Red Krayola,
Los Fastidios,
Lou Reed,
Erasure,
The Trojans,
E-Dancer,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Rhythm & Sound,
Saccharine Trust,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Gang Green,
The Move,
Curtis Mayfield,
Carl Craig,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Popol Vuh,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Bronski Beat,
Heaven 17,
The Pop Group,
Loose Ends,
Cheater Slicks,
Gil Scott Heron,
Ken Boothe,
Janne Schatter,
Skarface,
Susan Cadogan,
John Lydon,
The Slits,
Eve St. Jones,
Moebius,
Khruangbin,
Buzzcocks,
Television Personalities,
Schoolly D,
Flipper,
Royal Trux,
Rekid,
Terry Callier,
D'Angelo,
Lyres,
The Searchers,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Remains,
Funkadelic,
Cameo,
Youth Brigade,
The Invisible,
Derrick May,
Michelle Simonal,
Kerri Chandler,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Deakin, Deakin, Deakin, Deakin.
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.