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 Estonia and from Bologna.
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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Wally Richardson to the grunge kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Nas. All the underground hits.
All Stetsasonic tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Knickerbockers 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Black Dice record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
This Heat,
Funkadelic,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Pere Ubu,
The Cramps,
The Shadows of Knight,
Mo-Dettes,
Bobby Womack,
The Modern Lovers,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Birthday Party,
the Normal,
Peter and Kerry,
Charles Mingus,
Henry Cow,
Joyce Sims,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Amon Düül II,
Hoover,
The Blackbyrds,
Wire,
Barry Ungar,
David Bowie,
Tres Demented,
Graham Central Station,
The Remains,
World's Most,
Chrome,
Agent Orange,
Aloha Tigers,
The Cowsills,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Sister Nancy,
Neu!,
Sarah Menescal,
the Bar-Kays,
Goldenarms,
Joe Finger,
Pantytec,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Surgeon,
The Alarm Clocks,
Eve St. Jones,
Pantaleimon,
10cc,
Stetsasonic,
New Order,
Chris Corsano,
The Dirtbombs,
The Selecter,
Livin' Joy,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Searchers,
Mars,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Hot Snakes,
E-Dancer,
Swell Maps,
Lower 48,
Cal Tjader,
Joy Division, Joy Division, Joy Division, Joy Division.
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.