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 Dominican Republic and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1969 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 sitar 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 Kings Of Tomorrow to the punk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane. All the underground hits.
All Fugazi tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a X-102 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sex Pistols,
The Cramps,
This Heat,
The Real Kids,
U.S. Maple,
Nirvana,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Das Ding,
Fatback Band,
Pere Ubu,
The Velvet Underground,
Moss Icon,
Zero Boys,
Brothers Johnson,
The Young Rascals,
Monolake,
Technova,
Excepter,
Yusef Lateef,
Mark Hollis,
The J.B.'s,
Radio Birdman,
Terry Callier,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Minor Threat,
Yellowson,
The Angels of Light,
Max Romeo,
Nik Kershaw,
The Sound,
Nils Olav,
Todd Terry,
Bill Wells,
The Music Machine,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Shoche,
Black Flag,
Harmonia,
T. Rex,
Easy Going,
Newcleus,
Jeff Mills,
Aaron Thompson,
Arcadia,
Royal Trux,
The Trojans,
Parry Music,
Barclay James Harvest,
Oblivians,
Bob Dylan,
AZ,
Todd Rundgren,
The Sonics,
Suburban Knight,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Amazonics, Amazonics, Amazonics, Amazonics.
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.