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 Burundi 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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the oboe 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 Bluetip to the punk 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 Lou Reed & Metallica. All the underground hits.
All Sonny Sharrock tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Hasil Adkins 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Joyce Sims,
Bobby Sherman,
Jawbox,
the Soft Cell,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Pulsallama,
Lyres,
The Cramps,
The Monks,
The Slits,
Procol Harum,
Yusef Lateef,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Chris Corsano,
Jeru the Damaja,
Echospace,
Quando Quango,
Smog,
Ultra Naté,
Boredoms,
Amon Düül,
The Red Krayola,
10cc,
8 Eyed Spy,
Liliput,
Connie Case,
Groovy Waters,
CMW,
Oneida,
Lucky Dragons,
The Offenders,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Kaleidoscope,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Gories,
Minny Pops,
Basic Channel,
Swans,
Infiniti,
Ituana,
Quantec,
Nirvana,
Roger Hodgson,
Arthur Verocai,
Cheater Slicks,
Sun City Girls,
Gang Green,
The Gladiators,
Urselle,
Tubeway Army,
One Last Wish,
Aswad,
Erasure,
Soul Sonic Force,
Harpers Bizarre,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Monochrome Set,
Adolescents,
KRS-One,
Max Romeo,
Gang of Four, Gang of Four, Gang of Four, Gang of Four.
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.