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 Kiribati and from Hong Kong.
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 1963 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Stockholm.
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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the organ 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 Jawbox to the rock kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Red Lorry Yellow Lorry. All the underground hits.
All Cabaret Voltaire tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Martian 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Yazoo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Hardrive,
Leonard Cohen,
The Dead C,
Unrelated Segments,
Drexciya,
Boredoms,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Seeds,
The Durutti Column,
Black Moon,
Sly & The Family Stone,
New Order,
Deepchord,
X-Ray Spex,
Crash Course in Science,
Saccharine Trust,
Agitation Free,
Masters at Work,
Boz Scaggs,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Pierre Henry,
Ken Boothe,
Nils Olav,
Blake Baxter,
Circle Jerks,
June of 44,
Crispian St. Peters,
Cymande,
Pussy Galore,
Ultravox,
China Crisis,
the Bar-Kays,
Kaleidoscope,
Tres Demented,
Jacques Brel,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Selecter,
Stereo Dub,
Nick Fraelich,
Sam Rivers,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Avey Tare,
Mantronix,
Moss Icon,
Alton Ellis,
Buzzcocks,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Divine Comedy,
FM Einheit,
Jeru the Damaja,
Pole,
Sex Pistols,
Ronan,
the Germs,
The Leaves,
Black Pus,
Lou Christie,
F. McDonald,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Lucky Dragons,
Todd Terry,
The Mummies,
Dead Boys,
Hashim, Hashim, Hashim, Hashim.
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.