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 Italy and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 güiro 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 Con Funk Shun to the crunk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 New York Dolls. All the underground hits.
All Robert Wyatt tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Section 25 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Severed Heads record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Davy DMX,
the Association,
Brothers Johnson,
Saccharine Trust,
Deepchord,
Oblivians,
Lebanon Hanover,
Quantec,
Jesper Dahlback,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Public Image Ltd.,
Harry Pussy,
The Index,
Ken Boothe,
Barclay James Harvest,
Minor Threat,
Basic Channel,
Arab on Radar,
Gang Starr,
The Fall,
The Names,
Pagans,
In Retrospect,
Heaven 17,
Second Layer,
Kool Moe Dee,
Ice-T,
David Bowie,
Delon & Dalcan,
Cluster,
DJ Style,
The Stooges,
Metal Thangz,
Agent Orange,
Jerry's Kids,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Marvin Gaye,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Max Romeo,
KRS-One,
Ultravox,
Grauzone,
The Victims,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Matthew Halsall,
Sex Pistols,
Carl Craig,
Black Pus,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Sarah Menescal,
Newcleus,
Mo-Dettes,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Gerry Rafferty,
Soul II Soul,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Mandrill,
Warsaw,
Terry Callier,
Moby Grape,
Tomorrow, Tomorrow, Tomorrow, Tomorrow.
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.