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 Slovakia and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 808 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 Wasted Youth to the jazz 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 Pierre Henry. All the underground hits.
All Flipper tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sexual Harrassment record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobby Sherman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Residents,
Lee Hazlewood,
the Fania All-Stars,
Television,
The Alarm Clocks,
Trumans Water,
Lou Christie,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Niagra,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Surgeon,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Shadows of Knight,
June of 44,
Harmonia,
Stereo Dub,
Jeff Mills,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Warren Ellis,
Blancmange,
The Smoke,
Erasure,
Dorothy Ashby,
June Days,
Shoche,
Todd Terry,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Kinks,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Neon Judgement,
Aswad,
Pantaleimon,
Minnie Riperton,
Howard Jones,
Hot Snakes,
Buzzcocks,
The Motions,
Anakelly,
Michelle Simonal,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Black Flag,
Ultimate Spinach,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Moss Icon,
Public Enemy,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Rosa Yemen,
New York Dolls,
Stockholm Monsters,
Crime,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Maurizio,
The Modern Lovers,
Barclay James Harvest,
Desert Stars,
Angry Samoans,
Avey Tare,
Throbbing Gristle,
EPMD,
DNA,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Cluster, Cluster, Cluster, Cluster.
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.