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 Malaysia 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 1960 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Pantytec to the crunk 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 Eyeless In Gaza. All the underground hits.
All John Coltrane tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 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 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Dave Clark Five record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lower 48,
Ken Boothe,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
K-Klass,
Albert Ayler,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Eurythmics,
Letta Mbulu,
The Toasters,
The Dead C,
Gang Gang Dance,
Rhythm & Sound,
8 Eyed Spy,
Frankie Knuckles,
F. McDonald,
Johnny Osbourne,
Godley & Creme,
Brass Construction,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Dirtbombs,
the Sonics,
Avey Tare,
Arcadia,
Metal Thangz,
The Mummies,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Massinfluence,
Rosa Yemen,
The Happenings,
Juan Atkins,
Scrapy,
Easy Going,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Gregory Isaacs,
Con Funk Shun,
Fugazi,
The Trojans,
Bob Dylan,
Adolescents,
the Swans,
Warren Ellis,
Robert Hood,
These Immortal Souls,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Average White Band,
Jeff Lynne,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Divine Comedy,
The Selecter,
Black Sheep,
One Last Wish,
Silicon Teens,
Joy Division,
Chris Corsano,
Anthony Braxton,
Jawbox,
June Days,
Jesper Dahlback,
CMW,
The Fugs,
Pagans, Pagans, Pagans, Pagans.
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.