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 Dominican Republic and from Delhi.
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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Marshall Jefferson to the grime 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 John Lydon. All the underground hits.
All The Dave Clark Five tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Justin Hinds & The Dominoes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Franke record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Terrestrial Tones,
Bush Tetras,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Techniques,
June of 44,
The Shadows of Knight,
ABBA,
Make Up,
Rites of Spring,
Malaria!,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Eric B and Rakim,
Fatback Band,
Excepter,
Alton Ellis,
Lindisfarne,
Scratch Acid,
The Misunderstood,
Country Teasers,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Tim Buckley,
Brand Nubian,
Moebius,
The Monks,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Tropical Tobacco,
Morten Harket,
Hashim,
Soft Machine,
Magazine,
Traffic Nightmare,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Graham Central Station,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Cabaret Voltaire,
CMW,
The Star Department,
Eden Ahbez,
The Kinks,
Eve St. Jones,
Boogie Down Productions,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Associates,
Pussy Galore,
Dual Sessions,
The Birthday Party,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Black Bananas,
T. Rex,
Iggy Pop,
Boredoms,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Arthur Verocai,
Newcleus,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Laurel Aitken,
Crispian St. Peters,
Wings,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Echospace,
The Cure,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Cameo, Cameo, Cameo, Cameo.
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.