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 Georgia and from Shanghai.
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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 Porter Ricks to the dance kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Yusef Lateef. All the underground hits.
All Simply Red tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every A Flock of Seagulls record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a AZ record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lungfish,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
the Germs,
Eric Dolphy,
Urselle,
Eric B and Rakim,
48th St. Collective,
The Barracudas,
Marine Girls,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Cameo,
Pierre Henry,
Surgeon,
Young Marble Giants,
World's Most,
The Misunderstood,
The Mummies,
Amon Düül II,
the Bar-Kays,
The Moody Blues,
Quantec,
Porter Ricks,
The Kinks,
Man Parrish,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Monks,
The New Christs,
The Leaves,
The Victims,
Rites of Spring,
cv313,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Divine Comedy,
The Blackbyrds,
Bizarre Inc.,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Public Image Ltd.,
Dorothy Ashby,
Grauzone,
The Fall,
Jeff Mills,
Harry Pussy,
Drexciya,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Erasure,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Mr. Review,
Suicide,
Iggy Pop,
Loose Ends,
The Fortunes,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Kevin Saunderson,
R.M.O.,
E-Dancer,
Dave Gahan,
The Searchers,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Moby Grape,
The Slackers,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
H. Thieme,
Man Eating Sloth, Man Eating Sloth, Man Eating Sloth, Man Eating Sloth.
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.