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 Zimbabwe and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 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 Bush Tetras 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 John Holt. All the underground hits.
All 48th St. Collective tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Moleskins record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nik Kershaw record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mantronix,
Mo-Dettes,
The Mojo Men,
Malaria!,
Metal Thangz,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Rosa Yemen,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Mission of Burma,
Wally Richardson,
The Cure,
Subhumans,
The Sound,
Lightning Bolt,
Scion,
Faust,
The Last Poets,
The Shadows of Knight,
New York Dolls,
Eric Copeland,
ABBA,
Siglo XX,
Dennis Brown,
The Gun Club,
Maleditus Sound,
Eurythmics,
Susan Cadogan,
Rapeman,
Adolescents,
Eric Dolphy,
Judy Mowatt,
Blancmange,
June Days,
The Velvet Underground,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Cecil Taylor,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Tim Buckley,
Anthony Braxton,
Archie Shepp,
Glenn Branca,
The Walker Brothers,
Nirvana,
Andrew Hill,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Derrick May,
Colin Newman,
Roxy Music,
The Vogues,
Skriet,
Pylon,
Theoretical Girls,
Hardrive,
Cluster,
Angry Samoans,
Juan Atkins,
Gichy Dan,
Mary Jane Girls,
Bobby Womack,
Yaz,
Clear Light, Clear Light, Clear Light, Clear Light.
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.