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 Taipei.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Pole to the grime 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 Don Cherry. All the underground hits.
All Pylon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Barry Ungar record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 sitar and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a kango's stein massive record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nik Kershaw,
Rekid,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Misunderstood,
The Martian,
Lou Christie,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Shadows of Knight,
Circle Jerks,
Negative Approach,
Pagans,
The Saints,
New Order,
The Sound,
Symarip,
Amon Düül II,
Harry Pussy,
Archie Shepp,
the Association,
Inner City,
Radio Birdman,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Jandek,
Gang Starr,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Jeru the Damaja,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Fela Kuti,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Joyce Sims,
Sun Ra,
Prince Buster,
UT,
Thompson Twins,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Man Eating Sloth,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
48th St. Collective,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Pussy Galore,
Kaleidoscope,
Second Layer,
Echospace,
Ornette Coleman,
The Fire Engines,
This Heat,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Jawbox,
The Count Five,
Lee Hazlewood,
Black Bananas,
Boredoms,
Marshall Jefferson,
Harmonia,
The Remains,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Joe Smooth,
Pierre Henry,
The Cramps,
Suicide, Suicide, Suicide, Suicide.
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.