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 Mauritania and from Columbus.
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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the organ 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 Sad Lovers and Giants to the crunk 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 Duran Duran. All the underground hits.
All The Red Krayola tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pharoah Sanders 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Accadde A record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Skriet,
Stereo Dub,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Porter Ricks,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Black Flag,
Leonard Cohen,
Intrusion,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Model 500,
Country Joe & The Fish,
EPMD,
Pere Ubu,
the Fania All-Stars,
Sällskapet,
Jacob Miller,
Sex Pistols,
Saccharine Trust,
The Red Krayola,
Royal Trux,
Radio Birdman,
Make Up,
Agent Orange,
Bobby Womack,
Todd Terry,
Tom Boy,
Junior Murvin,
Moss Icon,
Scientists,
The Fuzztones,
The Doobie Brothers,
Groovy Waters,
The Smiths,
The Slackers,
The Gap Band,
Alison Limerick,
Graham Central Station,
Soul II Soul,
Swell Maps,
Loose Ends,
Dead Boys,
The Beau Brummels,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Busters,
Y Pants,
Faust,
ABBA,
Brass Construction,
The Fortunes,
Lucky Dragons,
The Offenders,
Gang Gang Dance,
Masters at Work,
Throbbing Gristle,
Dorothy Ashby,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Aswad,
Qualms,
Morten Harket,
The Divine Comedy,
Nirvana,
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.