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 Senegal and from Mexico City.
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 1964 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 marimba 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 Minor Threat to the grime kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Arab on Radar. All the underground hits.
All Arthur Verocai tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kurtis Blow 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Electric Prunes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Khruangbin,
Mandrill,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Marine Girls,
Joe Finger,
The Real Kids,
Dual Sessions,
Fad Gadget,
The Alarm Clocks,
Yusef Lateef,
Severed Heads,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Evens,
Can,
Radio Birdman,
Bill Wells,
Parry Music,
Bauhaus,
Michelle Simonal,
Gong,
Country Teasers,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Sex Pistols,
Fugazi,
Drexciya,
This Heat,
Jesper Dahlback,
Sandy B,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Pantaleimon,
The Beau Brummels,
Tom Boy,
Marvin Gaye,
DJ Sneak,
Yazoo,
Masters at Work,
Motorama,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Mantronix,
F. McDonald,
The Electric Prunes,
Warren Ellis,
Slave,
the Slits,
Pussy Galore,
Ultra Naté,
The United States of America,
Bootsy Collins,
Banda Bassotti,
Freddie Wadling,
Oblivians,
the Human League,
Barclay James Harvest,
Neu!,
Iggy Pop,
Mr. Review,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Hot Snakes,
Blossom Toes,
The Mojo Men,
Idris Muhammad,
Neil Young,
Robert Wyatt,
The Litter, The Litter, The Litter, The Litter.
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.