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 Burkina and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 Donald Fagen 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 Marvin Gaye to the dance kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Bill Wells. All the underground hits.
All Siouxsie and the Banshees tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Alarm Clocks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Roy Ayers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Coltrane,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Yazoo,
The Last Poets,
Minnie Riperton,
F. McDonald,
Eric Copeland,
The Five Americans,
Arthur Verocai,
Bush Tetras,
The Toasters,
Black Pus,
Negative Approach,
Crispian St. Peters,
Mo-Dettes,
Oneida,
Duran Duran,
Sexual Harrassment,
Soulsonic Force,
Minutemen,
Arab on Radar,
Scratch Acid,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Quando Quango,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Essential Logic,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Unwound,
The United States of America,
Mission of Burma,
Rod Modell,
Skaos,
EPMD,
Todd Rundgren,
Joey Negro,
Jacob Miller,
Sugar Minott,
Magma,
Ohio Players,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Kayak,
Bobby Womack,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Los Fastidios,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Shuggie Otis,
John Lydon,
Steve Hackett,
Howard Jones,
Oblivians,
Q65,
Sun City Girls,
Fat Boys,
John Cale,
Echospace,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
The Litter,
Hoover,
Eden Ahbez,
The Trojans,
OOIOO, OOIOO, OOIOO, OOIOO.
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.