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 Armenia and from Winnipeg.
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 1969 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Funkadelic to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Chocolate Watch Band. All the underground hits.
All Surgeon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Terry Callier 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Peanut Butter Conspiracy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Derrick May,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Hasil Adkins,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Accadde A,
Alice Coltrane,
The Stooges,
The Alarm Clocks,
KRS-One,
Symarip,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Fuzztones,
Erykah Badu,
Lightning Bolt,
Hoover,
Dorothy Ashby,
Ten City,
New York Dolls,
Rod Modell,
Black Bananas,
The Victims,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
cv313,
Judy Mowatt,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Ponytail,
Sight & Sound,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Faraquet,
the Bar-Kays,
The Pop Group,
Avey Tare,
Aswad,
Minor Threat,
Thompson Twins,
Wings,
Guru Guru,
Bizarre Inc.,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Gong,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Aloha Tigers,
Byron Stingily,
Moby Grape,
Blake Baxter,
The Gun Club,
Can,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Idris Muhammad,
Bill Near,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Wasted Youth,
The Residents,
Sandy B,
a-ha,
ABC,
Yaz,
Roger Hodgson,
The Blackbyrds,
Scientists,
James White and The Blacks,
Bluetip,
Todd Rundgren,
The J.B.'s, The J.B.'s, The J.B.'s, The J.B.'s.
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.