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 Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Gastr Del Sol. All the underground hits.
All Dead Boys tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Freddie Wadling record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 güiro and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Traffic Nightmare record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Trojans,
Isaac Hayes,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Soulsonic Force,
Tomorrow,
Fat Boys,
Accadde A,
The Moody Blues,
the Slits,
Jacques Brel,
Matthew Bourne,
Crime,
Derrick Morgan,
Faraquet,
Lyres,
T.S.O.L.,
Can,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Cybotron,
Slave,
The Fortunes,
Jesper Dahlback,
Tubeway Army,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Popol Vuh,
The Seeds,
The Walker Brothers,
Hardrive,
Pet Shop Boys,
Interpol,
Quadrant,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Wire,
Index,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Smiths,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Jeru the Damaja,
Iggy Pop,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Monks,
Skaos,
The Detroit Cobras,
Marcia Griffiths,
Amon Düül II,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Angels of Light,
Ken Boothe,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Babytalk,
Johnny Clarke,
Sixth Finger,
Curtis Mayfield,
Gong,
KRS-One,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Neil Young,
Fatback Band,
The Birthday Party, The Birthday Party, The Birthday Party, The Birthday Party.
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.