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 Tonga and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Red Lorry Yellow Lorry 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 Fania All-Stars. All the underground hits.
All Mr. Review tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Junior Murvin record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sandy B,
The Human League,
Bauhaus,
JFA,
Pulsallama,
Michelle Simonal,
the Fania All-Stars,
Lakeside,
Franke,
Juan Atkins,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
E-Dancer,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Pop Group,
Vladislav Delay,
Eli Mardock,
Scrapy,
Black Bananas,
Fatback Band,
FM Einheit,
Qualms,
Monks,
Boz Scaggs,
Public Enemy,
The Searchers,
The Dead C,
Second Layer,
The Buckinghams,
The Cosmic Jokers,
June Days,
The Zeros,
Pantaleimon,
Minor Threat,
Spoonie Gee,
David Axelrod,
Reuben Wilson,
David Bowie,
Rosa Yemen,
Sexual Harrassment,
Sarah Menescal,
Kevin Saunderson,
The American Breed,
Robert Görl,
Minny Pops,
Marshall Jefferson,
Soft Cell,
Ice-T,
UT,
Grandmaster Flash,
Drive Like Jehu,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Desert Stars,
Scion,
DNA,
Pylon,
Thompson Twins,
Flamin' Groovies,
Visage,
Crash Course in Science,
The Slits,
Make Up, Make Up, Make Up, Make Up.
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.