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 Syria and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 Lou Reed 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 Kool G Rap & DJ Polo to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 The Toasters. All the underground hits.
All Cabaret Voltaire tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Strawberry Alarm Clock record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 oboe and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Slave record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nils Olav,
Sällskapet,
Danielle Patucci,
Max Romeo,
June Days,
Eddi Front,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Standells,
The Selecter,
Porter Ricks,
Todd Rundgren,
the Soft Cell,
Bronski Beat,
Ludus,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Pussy Galore,
The Techniques,
L. Decosne,
The Last Poets,
Joy Division,
The Gladiators,
Qualms,
Josef K,
Make Up,
Lalo Schifrin,
Crispy Ambulance,
Joyce Sims,
Marshall Jefferson,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Amazonics,
Nirvana,
Spoonie Gee,
The Gun Club,
The Fire Engines,
The Martian,
Altered Images,
Gang Starr,
The Neon Judgement,
David Axelrod,
Marcia Griffiths,
New Age Steppers,
Jerry's Kids,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Rites of Spring,
June of 44,
Joensuu 1685,
Juan Atkins,
The Barracudas,
Khruangbin,
Rapeman,
Marine Girls,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Stooges,
The Evens,
Mo-Dettes,
Aswad,
Fad Gadget,
Letta Mbulu,
Eric Dolphy,
Bill Near, Bill Near, Bill Near, Bill Near.
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.