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 Peru and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 arpeggiator 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 The Buckinghams to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Pussy Galore. All the underground hits.
All The Raincoats tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Neil Young & Crazy Horse 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a 48th St. Collective record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wings,
Judy Mowatt,
The Evens,
Tim Buckley,
F. McDonald,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Ludus,
Fela Kuti,
The Mummies,
Slick Rick,
Bizarre Inc.,
Eve St. Jones,
the Germs,
Lee Hazlewood,
Soul II Soul,
Tres Demented,
The Misunderstood,
Mandrill,
Clear Light,
Joyce Sims,
Banda Bassotti,
Bluetip,
John Cale,
Andrew Hill,
Blake Baxter,
The Electric Prunes,
Johnny Osbourne,
Alison Limerick,
Jeff Mills,
Rufus Thomas,
Archie Shepp,
Soft Machine,
Tom Boy,
Jawbox,
Bad Manners,
Leonard Cohen,
Gichy Dan,
The J.B.'s,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Johnny Clarke,
Jandek,
Rapeman,
Josef K,
Simply Red,
Cluster,
Bobby Byrd,
Sonic Youth,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Althea and Donna,
Arab on Radar,
Guru Guru,
Hashim,
Pole,
Joy Division,
Gregory Isaacs,
Average White Band,
Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks.
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.