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 East Timor and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1964 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Suicide to the funk 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 Crooked Eye. All the underground hits.
All Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Animal Collective 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mars record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Flesh Eaters,
Bizarre Inc.,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Duran Duran,
Dead Boys,
Desert Stars,
The Move,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
These Immortal Souls,
The Barracudas,
Moebius,
Main Source,
Mr. Review,
The Divine Comedy,
David Axelrod,
Unrelated Segments,
Panda Bear,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Johnny Clarke,
KRS-One,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Robert Görl,
DNA,
Bluetip,
Pantytec,
Blake Baxter,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Todd Terry,
The Mummies,
The Smoke,
Sonny Sharrock,
the Bar-Kays,
Fugazi,
Hot Snakes,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Idris Muhammad,
Skriet,
Grandmaster Flash,
Lou Christie,
Bad Manners,
Wolf Eyes,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Robert Wyatt,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
The Invisible,
Dorothy Ashby,
Kurtis Blow,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Audionom,
The Fugs,
The Red Krayola,
The Pretty Things,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Standells,
The Tremeloes,
Zapp,
Heaven 17,
Matthew Bourne,
Malaria!, Malaria!, Malaria!, Malaria!.
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.