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 Moldova and from Stockholm.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the oboe 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 DNA to the grunge kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Sonics. All the underground hits.
All Crispian St. Peters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Sisters of Mercy,
Terrestrial Tones,
Quantec,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Cluster,
Roy Ayers,
Delta 5,
Rufus Thomas,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Seeds,
ABC,
Sound Behaviour,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Animal Collective,
Oneida,
Idris Muhammad,
Monks,
Bob Dylan,
Icehouse,
Mr. Review,
KRS-One,
Harry Pussy,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Tres Demented,
The Flesh Eaters,
Second Layer,
Jimmy McGriff,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Fat Boys,
Smog,
Godley & Creme,
Johnny Clarke,
Beasts of Bourbon,
La Düsseldorf,
Desert Stars,
China Crisis,
Sarah Menescal,
Parry Music,
Moss Icon,
Cal Tjader,
Drexciya,
Man Eating Sloth,
Inner City,
Aaron Thompson,
Scion,
Lower 48,
Gerry Rafferty,
This Heat,
Cameo,
Tim Buckley,
Soulsonic Force,
The Durutti Column,
Pulsallama,
Echospace,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Chrome,
Mary Jane Girls,
Magazine,
Swell Maps,
Bronski Beat,
Lou Christie,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Jerry Gold Smith, Jerry Gold Smith, Jerry Gold Smith, Jerry Gold Smith.
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.