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 Austria and from Shanghai.
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 1966 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Bobbi Humphrey to the jazz kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Joe Finger. All the underground hits.
All Hasil Adkins tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Fortunes 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Victims record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
8 Eyed Spy,
The Martian,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Unrelated Segments,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Carl Craig,
Monks,
Lungfish,
Qualms,
Anthony Braxton,
Roger Hodgson,
Albert Ayler,
Black Pus,
Scott Walker,
Black Flag,
X-101,
Laurel Aitken,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Porter Ricks,
CMW,
Franke,
The Saints,
Boz Scaggs,
Fad Gadget,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Khruangbin,
Hasil Adkins,
Brick,
Metal Thangz,
Radio Birdman,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Amon Düül II,
AZ,
Quando Quango,
John Holt,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Donny Hathaway,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Arthur Verocai,
Urselle,
Kenny Larkin,
Inner City,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Pretty Things,
The Neon Judgement,
The Star Department,
Morten Harket,
Tim Buckley,
Skaos,
the Normal,
Pole,
Panda Bear,
The Monochrome Set,
Duran Duran,
Bang On A Can,
Roy Ayers,
Nirvana,
The Count Five,
Country Teasers,
Fear, Fear, Fear, Fear.
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.