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 Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 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 Barbara Tucker to the dance 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 Mission of Burma. All the underground hits.
All Terror Squad Feat. Camron tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fad Gadget record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Thee Headcoats record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Selector Dub Narcotic,
John Foxx,
Marc Almond,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Barracudas,
Faraquet,
June of 44,
Pierre Henry,
Depeche Mode,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Spoonie Gee,
Maurizio,
Girls At Our Best!,
Sister Nancy,
Erykah Badu,
8 Eyed Spy,
Kool Moe Dee,
Main Source,
Bill Near,
John Lydon,
Bobby Byrd,
Terry Callier,
Guru Guru,
The Velvet Underground,
Soft Machine,
Gerry Rafferty,
Camberwell Now,
Stiv Bators,
Television,
Maleditus Sound,
Danielle Patucci,
Roy Ayers,
Monolake,
The Moody Blues,
The Wake,
Gregory Isaacs,
Michelle Simonal,
Charles Mingus,
Underground Resistance,
New Age Steppers,
DJ Sneak,
The Techniques,
The Offenders,
The Slits,
Young Marble Giants,
Niagra,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Wire,
Scratch Acid,
Juan Atkins,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Isaac Hayes,
Joe Smooth,
R.M.O.,
Avey Tare,
Sound Behaviour,
Mission of Burma,
The Remains,
Porter Ricks,
John Cale,
Altered Images,
Sam Rivers,
Angry Samoans,
The Detroit Cobras, The Detroit Cobras, The Detroit Cobras, The Detroit Cobras.
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.