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 Russia 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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Oppenheimer Analysis to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Bluetip tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Public Image Ltd. 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Severed Heads record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rosa Yemen,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Lightning Bolt,
Eyeless In Gaza,
June of 44,
Negative Approach,
Isaac Hayes,
Mark Hollis,
The Move,
The Index,
Main Source,
Bobby Womack,
Albert Ayler,
Magazine,
The Wake,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Vogues,
Sam Rivers,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Avey Tare,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Sound,
Dual Sessions,
Royal Trux,
Hoover,
One Last Wish,
Lou Reed,
The Fugs,
The Victims,
The J.B.'s,
E-Dancer,
Gil Scott Heron,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Smog,
T.S.O.L.,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Crime,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Rapeman,
D'Angelo,
Agitation Free,
Intrusion,
Nils Olav,
Black Moon,
Traffic Nightmare,
Masters at Work,
Rakim,
The Grass Roots,
Wally Richardson,
the Soft Cell,
Soulsonic Force,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Howard Jones,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Lyres,
Deepchord,
Aloha Tigers,
H. Thieme, H. Thieme, H. Thieme, H. Thieme.
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.