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 Korea North and from Edmonton.
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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the organ 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 Neil Young to the grunge 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 Skriet. All the underground hits.
All Deepchord tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Letta Mbulu 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Funkadelic record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Saccharine Trust,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Monochrome Set,
UT,
Al Stewart,
Minor Threat,
New Order,
Fat Boys,
The Angels of Light,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Reagan Youth,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Das Ding,
Infiniti,
Mad Mike,
Groovy Waters,
Lindisfarne,
Joe Smooth,
Lou Reed,
Gastr Del Sol,
Franke,
Wire,
Scion,
Barrington Levy,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Crispy Ambulance,
T.S.O.L.,
Negative Approach,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Half Japanese,
K-Klass,
FM Einheit,
Arcadia,
Radio Birdman,
Matthew Halsall,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Ponytail,
The Remains,
OOIOO,
The Sound,
Harry Pussy,
Make Up,
The Motions,
Throbbing Gristle,
Panda Bear,
Agitation Free,
Dual Sessions,
Electric Prunes,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Cymande,
The Flesh Eaters,
Young Marble Giants,
Michelle Simonal,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Max Romeo,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Alice Coltrane,
Bobby Womack,
The Doors,
Goldenarms, Goldenarms, Goldenarms, Goldenarms.
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.