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 Haiti and from Jakarta.
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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the guitar 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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade to the rap kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Glambeats Corp.. All the underground hits.
All The Blackbyrds tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gang Green 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 a synthesizer and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Prince Buster record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Martian,
Sun City Girls,
Toni Rubio,
Sun Ra,
Goldenarms,
James White and The Blacks,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Roy Ayers,
Pantytec,
EPMD,
Eden Ahbez,
The Toasters,
Rapeman,
Derrick Morgan,
The New Christs,
John Holt,
Stockholm Monsters,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Maleditus Sound,
Isaac Hayes,
Howard Jones,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Barry Ungar,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Slackers,
Ossler,
The Angels of Light,
Ken Boothe,
Bizarre Inc.,
Anthony Braxton,
The Birthday Party,
The Move,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Eric Copeland,
The American Breed,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Subhumans,
Kurtis Blow,
Young Marble Giants,
Bluetip,
Rosa Yemen,
Talk Talk,
Dead Boys,
Girls At Our Best!,
Jacob Miller,
Deepchord,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Gun Club,
Funkadelic,
Dark Day,
The Stooges,
Gang Starr,
Amon Düül II,
Ultra Naté,
Bang On A Can,
Erasure,
Joensuu 1685,
Pet Shop Boys,
Gerry Rafferty,
Agitation Free,
Drive Like Jehu, Drive Like Jehu, Drive Like Jehu, Drive Like Jehu.
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.