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 Netherlands and from Stockholm.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 chamberlin 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 Eddi Front to the rock kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Liliput. All the underground hits.
All Lou Reed & John Cale tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Searchers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 spring reverb and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Shuggie Otis record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Skarface,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Porter Ricks,
Delta 5,
The Detroit Cobras,
Black Sheep,
Main Source,
Thee Headcoats,
Jeru the Damaja,
Make Up,
The Gladiators,
The Beau Brummels,
The Fall,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Victims,
Lungfish,
Gang of Four,
Sun City Girls,
Sex Pistols,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Johnny Clarke,
Letta Mbulu,
Connie Case,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
New York Dolls,
Country Teasers,
David Axelrod,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Moebius,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Cybotron,
Roxette,
Wasted Youth,
Stereo Dub,
Ossler,
Shuggie Otis,
Cecil Taylor,
Judy Mowatt,
The Black Dice,
Loose Ends,
Scratch Acid,
Marine Girls,
The Flesh Eaters,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Minutemen,
Surgeon,
Flamin' Groovies,
Bootsy Collins,
Lightning Bolt,
The Mojo Men,
Rekid,
Kerrie Biddell,
Peter and Kerry,
48th St. Collective,
Electric Prunes,
Eli Mardock,
Wire,
The Misunderstood,
Traffic Nightmare,
Gang Starr,
Bizarre Inc., Bizarre Inc., Bizarre Inc., Bizarre Inc..
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.