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 Malawi and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Quadrant to the grunge 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 Rahsaan Roland Kirk. All the underground hits.
All the Slits tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mission of Burma record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 snare and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Beau Brummels record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Kinks,
Quando Quango,
Eric Dolphy,
Bush Tetras,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Crash Course in Science,
Mantronix,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Sound,
Ornette Coleman,
Slave,
Janne Schatter,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Leaves,
Boz Scaggs,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Standells,
The Happenings,
Tropical Tobacco,
Minny Pops,
The Blues Magoos,
The Index,
The Cure,
Sexual Harrassment,
the Human League,
The Moleskins,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Eden Ahbez,
OOIOO,
The Human League,
Brass Construction,
Prince Buster,
Dennis Brown,
Q and Not U,
Lightning Bolt,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Scratch Acid,
Harpers Bizarre,
Crispian St. Peters,
Nico,
Minor Threat,
Pagans,
The Fuzztones,
Talk Talk,
Mr. Review,
The Monochrome Set,
Y Pants,
Interpol,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Vladislav Delay,
Animal Collective,
Mission of Burma,
Kenny Larkin,
Minutemen,
Harry Pussy,
Delta 5,
Index,
Skarface, Skarface, Skarface, Skarface.
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.