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 Kuwait and from Lyon.
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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Mumbai.
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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 LL Cool J to the electroclash 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 Suicide. All the underground hits.
All John Coltrane tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fear record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Doors record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Stereo Dub,
Nico,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Martian,
Gabor Szabo,
Mad Mike,
John Cale,
Gerry Rafferty,
Chrome,
Rod Modell,
The Electric Prunes,
The Monochrome Set,
Electric Prunes,
T.S.O.L.,
Altered Images,
Toni Rubio,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Jerry's Kids,
Dead Boys,
Neu!,
Morten Harket,
Shoche,
Ornette Coleman,
The Pop Group,
Pole,
Eddi Front,
The Buckinghams,
Connie Case,
Sällskapet,
Curtis Mayfield,
Marmalade,
David Axelrod,
Agitation Free,
The Happenings,
Rosa Yemen,
The Cure,
Japan,
Aural Exciters,
Erasure,
Intrusion,
Alice Coltrane,
James White and The Blacks,
Black Pus,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Man Eating Sloth,
Ronnie Foster,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Stooges,
Duran Duran,
Tommy Roe,
The Red Krayola,
D'Angelo,
The Leaves,
Crispy Ambulance,
Hardrive,
Dorothy Ashby,
Lou Reed,
Avey Tare,
Pylon,
Aloha Tigers,
Ice-T,
The New Christs,
Warsaw, Warsaw, Warsaw, Warsaw.
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.