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 Uzbekistan and from Beijing.
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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 The Gun Club to the rock kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch. All the underground hits.
All Boz Scaggs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Skatalites 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Associates record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Jerry Gold Smith,
H. Thieme,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Eli Mardock,
Bobby Womack,
the Sonics,
Connie Case,
Marvin Gaye,
Massinfluence,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Ornette Coleman,
Ken Boothe,
Joy Division,
Vladislav Delay,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Crooked Eye,
Kerri Chandler,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Franke,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Standells,
Quadrant,
Arthur Verocai,
China Crisis,
Section 25,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Joensuu 1685,
The Cowsills,
The Last Poets,
The Selecter,
Faraquet,
June Days,
Grey Daturas,
Jerry's Kids,
Andrew Hill,
X-102,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Tropical Tobacco,
Goldenarms,
Amon Düül,
The Residents,
Warren Ellis,
Scientists,
The Cramps,
Michelle Simonal,
Jacques Brel,
The Moody Blues,
The United States of America,
Nation of Ulysses,
K-Klass,
Depeche Mode,
X-101,
Letta Mbulu,
the Germs,
Glambeats Corp.,
Lakeside,
The Trojans,
Sandy B,
Bronski Beat,
Mantronix,
The Index,
Aloha Tigers, Aloha Tigers, Aloha Tigers, Aloha Tigers.
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.